


Defection.

by AsteroidMiyoko, Punk_B1rd



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Spark Sexual Interfacing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-10
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2020-01-10 20:17:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 26,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18415094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AsteroidMiyoko/pseuds/AsteroidMiyoko, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Punk_B1rd/pseuds/Punk_B1rd
Summary: What do you do when the one you care most about keeps coming back, mission after mission, injured and damaged? How many more missions before he comes back with an injury you can't repair? Or doesn't come back at all? Well, you contemplate just how far you're willing to go to protect yourself and your partner and you do exactly that.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Heya! I'm pretty new to this fandom, so forgive me for any canonical discrepancies!(And let me know if there's something I'm missing! I want to improve.) 
> 
> This started off as a warm up RP between myself and Miyoko to get into character before we started anything too long, so neither of us took anything too seriously. Unfortunately this thing kinda turned into a monster, so we decided to turn it into a little fic! So, enjoy.

It was the third time this week Knockout's communicator pinged in his audial. "Sorry to bother you again, sir... Breakdown just came back from another mission and he's in need of medical assistance. Looks like he took a wrecking ball straight to the chest. And I think the green wrecker 'bot punched him in the side of the helm pretty hard." The vehicon mumbled sheepishly over the line.

"Hey, don't call 'im. It's not that bad." Breakdown's voice could be heard in the background, followed closely by a heavy crashing sound and the responding shouts of surrounding eradicons.

"Sir...if you please.... We need you here. Before he loses his balance again and falls into another table." The line beeped as the vehicon quickly closed the comm line, most likely to help the others heft Breakdown's bulk from whatever poor table or shelf he managed to smash and guide him to the nearest medical berth before he broke something else.

Knockout gave himself a good minute to process the information and ex-vent slowly so he wouldn't feel the urge to berate Breakdown from here to the Outer Rim for getting in that kind of trouble again.

It didn't work.

He made his way from the observation deck to the medbay, stomping the entire time, causing a few innocent bystanders to have to jump out of the way. That idiot. That absolute rustbrained...

Reaching the medbay, he slammed his servo down on the keypad, and swept into the room.

"What have you done this time!?"

Breakdown and both vehicon assistants startled at Knockout's irritated bark. The vehicons were quick to make themselves scarce, wanting nothing more than to avoid the CMO's fiery wrath.

Breakdown was leaned back against the med berth, a sizable dent in his massive chestplates that was almost perfectly wrecking ball shaped. Dried energon still stained the large mech's lower lip plate as well, likely from the mean left hook that followed.

"So, I can explain..." Breakdown raised both servos in defense, a sheepish look on his faceplates. "We were defending one of the energon mines from a couple of 'bots and uh... you know how the other day we saw that one human make that hand gesture with the one digit raised at the other one on the road and we assumed it was something rude? So, I figured Bulkhead would know what it meant since he hangs around those fleshies all day, so when I saw him on the other side of the battlefield, I uh...yeah. Still don't know what it means but he sure as scrap did." He couldn't help but grin wide enough to reopen the split in his lip plate.

Clearly he hadn't been hit hard enough to learn his lesson.

Knockout couldn't help but wince at the injuries Breakdown had sustained, at the sight of energon sluggishly dripping from the now open split on his lip plate. It would take hours to repair him, not to mention the fact that his finish would need-wait...

What Breakdown said caught up to him.  
"You're telling me... you instigated this?"

"Uh... Well, in my defense.... You should see the other guy." He offered with a shrug.

Knockout stomped up to the medical berth, optics narrowed.

"Why was that a good idea!?" He demanded, gesturing to the wide dent in Breakdown's plating, "What made you think that getting beat up by bots was a necessary part of the mission today?"

Why does he do this???

Knockout's stern words definitely put a damper on the bruiser's triumphant attitude, bringing him back down to something far more subdued, though not quite apologetic...yet.

“S’not like I was planning on losing that one…” Breakdown added quietly. 

The rush of the battle was starting to fade by now and the pain of his injuries was catching up with him. The dent in his chest plate was beginning to sting something fierce and he was no longer able to ignore the throbbing in his helm. He squeezed his optics shut for a moment, giving a low ex-vent.

Soft yellow optics opened slowly and focused on piercing scarlet ones. "So uh, about that 'medical attention'...?"

The physician in Knockout couldn't ignore the pain Breakdown was obviously feeling, so he stepped forward, gently guiding him to lay back completely on the medberth, and hooking up a vitals sensor.

He was still mad at him, but that could wait.

Carefully, he examined Breakdown's injuries, keeping the pressure from his servos light.

"Are there any injuries that I can't see?" He asked, as he worked.

"Don't think so." Breakdown grunted back, ignoring the usual warning that popped up in his HUD as the med scanner started to access his personal vital monitors. Within seconds, data was being displayed on the monitor by the med berth alongside two digital outlines of the patient, with damaged areas outlined and flashing red. So far there was only two main areas. Blunt force trauma to both chestplates, the left sustaining more damage than the right, as well as slight trauma to the left side of the helm with a small laceration of the lower left lip plate. All rather straightforward.

As usual, Knockout's words had been curt and frosty, but his servos still felt gentle and light as his talon ended digits deftly traced the outer edges of the indentations in Breakdown's chestplates. It seemed no matter how irritable the doc was, he still worked with the utmost care and regard for his patient.

Or maybe it was just him.

Either way, Breakdown maintained his silence, letting the doctor do his thing in peace while still watching closely. Yellow optics roamed from the dexterous servos assessing his damage to the subtly changing looks of concentration on the CMO's face, to the heads up display by the med berth and back again.

There was a certain peacefulness in tending to non-life-threatening injuries; Knockout could attain an almost meditative state as he completed the steps he knew well from years of experience.

But with Breakdown... He always felt a little on edge, with everything but the most minor bruises and scratches. And it happened so frequently these days.

"What are you looking at?" He mumbled, as he started in on cleaning debris and who knows what else from the large dent.

 

"You." Breakdown stated plainly. He couldn't find any reason to lie, so he didn't. "You make this funny little face when you pick off another chunk of flaking paint. Like you're the one in pain." He noted.

He could only assume it was because Knockout knew he was going to have to be the one to touch up his paint when the damage was repaired. He still wasn't sorry for instigating a fight with Bulkhead, but he did feel a little guilty for taking such a huge chunk of time from the CMO's busy schedule for repairs.

Knockout's optics widened.

"Funny little- you- well- obviously I don't enjoy this! Would you like to know how many times I've had to repair you in the last year?"

He punctuated his frustration with a particularly rough swipe of the cleaning cloth.

"At least 73 times and counting!"

"Ouch. Okay okay, I get it. But yikes... that many times huh? I didn’t think you'd keep count. Unless it's a medical record thing." He winced with the sudden roughness, but still managed to look sheepish as he finally averted his optics

"Well then, thanks for all the patch ups, doc. I 'ppreciate it."

 

He really has no idea... Knockout realized, as he watched Breakdown try to look anywhere but his face. He ex-vented in a huff.  
"Don’t flatter yourself, it’s in your medical record, and you’re welcome."  
Knockout scoffed with an optic roll.

"Gotcha." Breakdown finally relaxed back fully against the med berth, closing his optics and venting a deep sigh. His injuries still ached, but the pain was already becoming duller and more manageable. Most likely from the medical programming he was plugged into, dulling and slowing his pain receptors.

He finally fell silent for a while, the only sounds being the steady thrum of the Nemesis' engines, and the soft clinking sounds of metal on metal as the doctor worked. After a cycle or two, he spoke up again. "Well, how about this. When you're done with me, I'll reorganize that one supply shelf that you were complaining about yesterday. Y'know, to make it up to you a little."

"It's really the least you could do." He replied lightly, his bad mood fading finally as he settled into the rhythm of his work.

From the relaxing humming of Breakdown's system, It seemed like he might fall into recharge, but selfishly, Knockout wanted to keep him conscious.

"So I assume your escapade comes with a good story?"

Breakdown ex-vented a throaty chuckle at the doctor's inquiry as he opened his optics, the yellow glow reflecting faintly off his own blue paint. "Don’t they always?"

Clueless to Knockout's intention, he casually set in on a play by play recap of his run in with Bulkhead and how quick that rude servo gesture was to set off the heavy green autobot.

"You should have seen him. He went absolutely ballistic. I guess if you really wanna make those bots see red, you should try it sometime." He smirked at his own joke, eyeing Knockout's lustrous candy apple red paint scheme.

"Ha!" Knockout rolled his optics. "It is tempting, though I'm distracting enough as it is." He said with a smirk.

"With a paint job like yours, I don’t doubt it." He retorted, his grin mirroring Knockout's.

“Flattery will get you everywhere, but not out of this. Now hold very still for this part, and don't talk." Knockout reached for a suturing tool, and turned Breakdown's head carefully so he could hold the two sides of his lip plate together while he fixed the crack.

Up this close, Breakdown could really see the details of the doctor's face. Sharp features, smooth angles, handsome, proud helm, and optics he swore could pierce holes in his own thick armor plating if they focused on one spot for too long. He remained stock still and uttered not a word while Knockout worked, but after a while, he couldn’t help but softly ex-vent through parted lip plates to release a bit of the heat that had built up under his hood, the warm air ghosting over Knockout's taloned servos.

"You know, you're being awfully cooperative." Knockout teased quietly as he worked. "Cycle your optics once for 'I'm ok' and twice for 'That hurts you fragger'."

If he were being completely honest with himself, he was taking his time more than absolutely necessary. He liked having the wrecker around and in one piece, but it seemed recently like Breakdown only had two states, out in the field fighting, or in the medbay. So, at least, Knockout could prolong the medbay part a bit.

Despite his best efforts, he couldn't stop the slight grin of amusement that perked the corners of his lip plates. "Ya can’t make jokes at me when ya want me to hold m'face still doc..." He mumbled as best he could without moving too much. He felt much more at ease, knowing at least Knockout was in much higher spirits now than he was before

Knockout shook his head with a tiny grin. "For goodness sake, what do you think 'hold still' means?" He finished the delicate weld and replaced the tool on the side table, before running a thumb lightly over Breakdown's lip plate.

"You're lucky I'm the best at what I do." He murmured, "Anyone else would leave a scar on that beautiful mug." Knockout realized he hadn't removed his thumb, and quickly took a small step back, turning his focus to the computer.

"Eheh, I think you forget who you're talking to. What's another scar to someone like me? Not nearly as bad of a tragedy as it would be if your face ended up scarred somehow." Breakdown shrugged, curiously brushing the very tip of his glossa against the repair on his lip. It was smoother than he expected, no hard seams that he could feel aside from the edges of the fresh weld.

"So, what's next on your torture list, boss?" He teased with a warm smirk.

"What's another scar- you really have no sense of self preservation!"

Knockout bustled around a bit, making sure the things he needed for the main surgery were close at hand, but mostly trying to settle his processor before he began.

“I mean...not really. I’m important because I’m big and I’m the med assistant, but that’s about it.” 

He should have just dropped it, but Knockout couldn't find it in himself to just let it go. He rounded on Breakdown, just barely resisting the urge to grab him and shake him.

"What if something happens to you that I can't fix? Hm?"

Yellow optics widened and stared back at Knockout with a mixture of confusion and surprise.

"I...uh... I'll probably be scrapped then. You'll get a new assistant for the med bay and out on missions. Things move forward." He gave a little shrug. "You know as well as I do, any of these missions could be our last. It's still war... But I’m not like you. You're our chief medical officer. You're more important to the crew. Everyone on this ship needs you. That's why it's my job to take the heat when we're out. So another scar ain't gonna bother me if it means you live to weld the survivors back together at the end of the day."

 

"This has nothing to do with how important I am! I know I'm important."

Knockout leaned in, fixing as fierce a glare as he could manage. He could feel his fans kicking on to cool down heated systems, but he couldn't help it, and frankly he didn't care.

"This is about how important you are, to ME, you complete and total rustbucket!"

Surprise and realization dawned on his face and a tinge of blue flushed across his ruddy face. It hadn’t occurred to him at all until now what Knockout had been trying to get through his thick helm.

"Oh..."

Knockout threw his hands in the air.

 

"Finally! At this rate, another hit to your helm and you won’t be able to process anything heavier than simple multiplication…”

 

Of course, now that he’d gotten his point across, nervousness started to set in, and he fiddled a bit with his tools, unwilling to maintain eye contact.

"Ahem. So, I'm going to put you into recharge now so I can repair that ridiculous dent..."

"Wait. Just, real quick." Breakdown slowly sat up from the med berth, wanting to be up enough to look Knockout in the optic.

"Look, I'm sorry. I'll do better to...keep myself safe. I'll keep an eye on things and...try not to instigate too much." He sucked air in through his vents, releasing it in a sigh.

"And thank you again for patching me back up." He added before relaxing back against the med berth, quietly waiting for Knockout to induce stasis.

"You’re welcome.”

Then more quietly, "Thank you." He pressed a couple of buttons, and waited for Breakdown's optics to cycle off, hand resting lightly on his shoulder.

\-------

Waking up from induced stasis was always a much slower affair than waking from a normal recharge and with a low groan, Breakdown began to stir. Processes initialized and sensors came online and within moments, yellow optics onlined as well, albeit dull as he slowly returned to consciousness.

Another breem or two passed and Breakdown slowly curled the digits of his left servo, then his right, uncurling them and slowly moving his arms to push himself up into a seated position. His optics had become brighter as well, as the grogginess gradually started to wear off. Glancing down at himself, he could see not a single scratch on his prominent chestplates. As always, Knockout's bodywork was phenomenal. In fact, Breakdown could swear he was ready for the showroom floor with the way his paint shone in the dim lighting of the med bay. Primus, had he been waxed and polished while he was out too?

Though, speaking of... Where was..?

"Knockout..?" He called, swinging his legs over the edge of the med berth and pushing himself off to stand up.

Not too far away, in the small laboratory connected to the med bay, the CMO was busy fussing over a vast array of instruments and containers

"Hm." Knockout peered closely at a vial of glowing purple liquid which was resting in a rack on the desk. Why was it glowing? It wasn't supposed to be glowing... He glanced down at the notes on his pad, then up again, then down at the notes.

 

"Slaggit. I'll have to start all over again..."

 

He ex-vented lightly and sat down in the nearest chair, cycling his optics a couple of times to wake himself up. He really should have taken a rest after the long shift, but he was too revved up.

Suddenly, he heard Breakdown's low voice from the other room.

"In the lab!" He called.

The sound of heavy footfalls could be heard approaching and moments later Breakdown stepped in, taking care to not touch or knock over anything important.

"Heya. I feel like a million credits. Look like it too." He gave a warm grin as he approached the work bench Knockout had parked himself in front of. Though the closer he got though, the more he could see how tired the CMO looked. His paint, while still as beautiful as ever, had started to look the slightest bit dull, and the glassy look in those scarlet optics said it all.

Not wanting to offend Knockout or overstep his boundaries, he mulled over how best to say 'you look like you're going to fall over'.

"What'cha workin' on?"

"Theoretically?" He said, "A type of first aid nanite."  
Knockout slumped in the chair, legs stretched out and arms draped loosely over the sides. "But in reality, apparently, a night light for sparklings."

He tried to motivate himself enough to get up and recycle the failed experiment, but he just couldn't bring himself to stand. "So no residual pain?" He asked.

"None at all." He shook his helm, reaching a servo up to touch where the dent had been. It felt like it had never been there in the first place. "Pretty sure you worked some freaky magic while I was out, doc. Or maybe I hallucinated there bein' a dent. Cuz there's not even the slightest warp in my plates." He let his servo fall back to his side, falling quiet for a little while, simply observing.

He could see it in Knockout's body language now, the way he leaned against the desk and the exhausted slump in his pauldrons. Doc Knock was plain tuckered out.

He mulled over his options once more before making a decision. It may not have been the best decision, but it was his decision. With a quick movement, he stepped forward and took Knockout's waist in both thick servos, lifting him from his chair and easily throwing him over one shoulder.

"Sorry about this, but y'know doc, I'm not the best at words and I know I'm not gonna be able to talk you into anything, so I'll be real with you. You look like you haven't recharged in about a deca-cycle, so I'm gonna take you to your quarters. What you do when I get you there is up to you." He explained as he stepped out of the lab, making his way through the med bay and out into the hall, heading for the CMO's quarters.

Knockout let out an undignified squawk as Breakdown easily hefted him onto his shoulder. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust him not to drop him, but it was more than a little embarrassing…

"Breaks, put me down! I've got work to do!" Breakdown ignored him, of course, but it wasn't all bad... In fact, Knockout was almost tired enough to fall asleep right there...

No! Stay awake!

Breakdown was surprisingly comfortable, and warm, and the gentle sound of his system was relaxing. Before he knew it, Knockout’s struggles ceased and he slowly relaxed against Breakdown’s massive shoulder, letting his optics shutter.

The CMO's quarters were located close to the med bay, so the walk there, even with Breakdown's slow lumbering pace, was rather short.

He punched in the code for the door and stepped inside the small private quarters, the door closing with a hiss behind him. The quarters were, like the rest of the ship, spartan and devoid of everything but the necessities. He carried Knockout over to the sleeping berth and gently deposited him into it, taking care to not just let him fall.

He's in recharge... Breakdown realized as he straightened up, looking the other bot over. No wonder he hadn’t struggled or argued very much. He ex-vented a chuckle and wandered quietly over to a nearby chair, making himself comfortable as he planned to wait for the doctor to wake. But within several kliks, he too fell into a deep recharge, his mass slouched over in the chair.

\----------

Some time later Knockout was very confused to online his optics and find himself on his berth, in his room, fairly well rested, when he thought for sure he would’ve woken up in a chair in his lab with a crick in his spinal struts.

"How did I-"

Sitting up, he saw Breakdown sprawled over a chair, processors cycling rhythmically, and he remembered. Slaggit, I fell into recharge on him! He probably laughed at me. Oh well...

He watched him for a while; his face was peaceful in sleep, handsome and relaxed. He knew Breakdown didn't think of himself as elegant, but there was a kind of elegance to such strength at rest.

\---

It was the sound of another stirring and talking in his vicinity that roused the large blue mech from his idle recharge. His optics glowed dim gold as he slowly opened them, assessing his surroundings. Scrap.... He must have conked out when he sat down. Perhaps stasis wasn't the same as a recharge and didn't grant him the rest he needed. Or maybe he still just needed to recuperate from his adventures antagonizing autobots.

"Mh..." He vocalized softly as he straightened out his now stiff spinal strut, glancing around and setting his focus on the sleek racer before him.

"Hey you." He smiled sheepishly.

It wasn't that they'd never hung out in his quarters before, casually chatting, staying up until early in the solar-cycle decompressing after a mission, but...

There was something about waking up together, something about the softness of Breakdown's mannerisms and voice. Knockout could almost imagine this being his normal. 

He could have flirted, said something outrageous like expected, but he didn't want to do anything to interrupt this feeling. He contented himself with smiling softly as the other rearranged themself in his chair.

Breakdown hung around a while longer, always willing to listen to any of Knockout's complaints and problems while occasionally offering a different viewpoint. But moments like this never lasted forever, and before long they found themselves being pulled away by the call of other responsibilities.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was gonna try and wait to post more but.....ahahahahahaha I'm an impatient shit. This chapter is short, but the next one is gonna be much longer. c:

Things seemed to move smoothly for a little while longer, until an earth month later, Knockout was summoned to the med bay once again on an emergency call. "It's Breakdown. Apparently he was cornered by Bumblebee and Arcee."

"Sorry doc... wasn’t my fault this time I swear." Were the first words out of his mouth when he caught sight of the CMO approaching. "They separated me from the vehicon crew and between the two of them...well." He glanced down at the severed energon lines in the crook of his arm and the several other gashes across his shoulders and forearms, all oozing rich blue...

Without saying a word, Knockout guided Breakdown to recline on a medberth, and began scanning his injuries.

Don't yell at him, don't yell at him, it won't help. 

That mantra played through the medic’s processor as he worked. 

Small clamps stopped the energon from flowing from the open wounds, and he made quick work of clearing away the spilled energon so he could see the damage more precisely.

He couldn't help his frustration from showing on his face and in his actions as he worked abruptly.

Knockout's silence was near deafening for his patient, the silent clicks and clinks of tool against metal as the doc worked did little to lessen the furious silent treatment Breakdown was receiving.

He knew better than to say anything else. He'd already made his case to the angry red racer; all he could do now was wait and hope Knockout didnt rip him a new vent when his temper finally simmered down long enough for him to form intelligent words instead of screaming violent nonsense like he knew he would if Breakdown so much as looked at him the wrong way.

Even if Knockout yanked at a clamp or tugged on an energon line in a way that was uncomfortable, Breakdown maintained his quiet, waiting for the ticking time bomb that was Knockout to finally go off.

Primus, he was scarier than Dreadwing's damn mines when he was like this...

For the next few minutes Knockout continued to work quietly, efficiently reattaching and/or replacing sections of severed energon lines and cleaning out debris. He noticed the bits of blue and yellow paint that had transferred into Breakdown's plating from his adversaries, and as soon as the more serious damage was repaired, he went to work removing any trace of them.

He lifted Breakdown's servo carefully, noting with some satisfaction the paint transfer there on his knuckles as well. He paused a moment to admire it before resuming.

Knockout had managed to get his temper partially under control, but he didn't stop his voice from going low and serious when he finally spoke, servo under Breakdown's jaw, turning his face to look at him.

"You swear you didn't start it?"

 

Breakdown shook his helm, "Cross my spark. I was trying to keep them off of Steve and 672, which worked, but then those two took off and before I realized it, I was cornered and alone with the 'bots. I dealt out some damage, but then they drew blades and started trying to focus on the cracks in my armor. After that it's all a blur until Steve and 672 came back with reinforcements. Then they dragged me here."

He brought a servo up to gently rest on Knockout's forearm, thumb digit gently stroking over the door window and over the pale red paint pattern there.

"I promise, doc."

Knockout’s processor couldn't help but focus on the light points of contact on his arm, at the same time relaxing and somehow causing a shiver to run through his circuits. Breakdown didn't usually initiate touch; it had the effect of almost immediately derailing Knockout's contrary train of thought.

"W-well."

Almost subconsciously, his other servo came up to mirror the first on Breakdown's jaw, grip shifting from demanding to gentle.

"You’re lucky then, that they had the torque to drag you back to- here."

"Mh." Breakdown grunted in assent. “I know. Things have gotten pretty busy recently. Feels like pretty soon this'll be the only way for us to hang out together." He gave a grin that didn't quite reach the soft glow of his optics.

I want to spend more time with you.

His servo unwillingly left Knockout's arm and fell back to the med berth. "So, what's the prognosis, Doc Knock? I don't think they severed any lines going anywhere too important, did they?" His tone returned to something lighter and more teasing, hoping to bring a smile to the doctor's smooth, gorgeous faceplates. "At least, nothing I think you'd miss." He punctuated his sentence with a subtle wink.

Knockout scoffed lightly, feeling more on familiar ground with Breakdown's teasing.

"Are you doubting my ability to fix whatever meagre hits the Autobots manage to land?"  
His optics narrowed as he leaned in close to one audial sensor with a grin, and murmured,  
"I need you in top form at all times, and I'm the best at what I do."

He let his servos slowly trace Breakdown's jaw as he turned away, and busied himself with organizing his tools. Helm turned away, Knockout tried to keep the smile off of his face.

Knockout's smooth, sultry baritone purring so close to Breakdown's audial sent electricity crackling up his spinal strut and did something funny to his processor. Primus, he had it bad for this shiny red speedster.

"With a spitfire like you, I have to be in top form at all times to keep up. Though even then, you still leave me in the dust." He replied as smoothly as he could, finding relief that his voice sounded much steadier than he felt. Even though Knockout had turned away, he could tell in the way the doctor carried himself that his mood had improved. Good. He had done his job.

"Naturally!" Knockout replied, cheekily, "But I do love watching you make the effort."

This casual flirting and such was becoming more and more common between them and not for the first time, he wondered what would happen if he just... kicked it up a notch. At least, just a little. Instead of falling back on habits that had been comfortable to him for vorns, what if he took a chance? Let it not be said that he was a coward!

Knockout finished the bulk of the repairs, and then applied the nanites to take care of the fine work. Before he could over think, he took Breakdown's servo, pressed his mouth to it, and then returned it quickly.

"Now get out of here, I have experiments to run."

Breakdown's optics widened and he stared for several nanokliks before blinking and coming back to himself.

"I uhm... right. Going now." His vocal processor hummed with faint static and he reset it twice as he hauled his mass up off the med berth. For such a big guy, he was pretty quick to make himself scarce, leaving the medical wing and making a beeline for one of the few places he could hang out and relax a while. The vehicon quarters. May as well go check on Steve and 672 while he waited for the nanite gel to finish repairing the tiny dings and scratches on his armor. Plus it would give him a chance to mull things over as he ambled through the corridors.

If anyone had looked into the medbay right after Breakdown left, they would have seen a doctor doing a strange little dance from there to the lab. He couldn't keep the smile off of his face, both at his own boldness and at the way the recipient had reacted.

As rare as it was, Knockout had dealt with outright rejection before; he knew what it looked like, and that was not it.

Not that it was impossible that Breakdown wouldn't overthink and worry, but! That was a problem to deal with at a later time.

For now, Knockout allowed himself to bask in the memory of Breakdown's startled optics and stuttering speech. He hummed while he worked on his experiments, the rest of the earth solar-cycle passing by in a blur.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((Time units used are as follows:))  
> Nano-klik: ~1 second  
> Cycle: ~1.2 minutes  
> Breem: ~8.3 minutes  
> Joor: ~1 hour  
> Deca-cycle: ~1 month  
> Solar-cycle: ~1 year  
> Vorn: 83 years


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, chapter 3. I was gonna try and wait a whole week to post, but I'm too excited. I'm my own beta'er, so there's probably some errors. Forgive me! But anywho, have some gay robots. <3

Unfortunately, the time for either of them to act on this growing thing between them never came. Through a turn of events Breakdown found himself staring death in the face of a energon thirsty human. Bound tightly to a makeshift berth surrounded by crude cutting instruments and tools, he was sure he'd never make it out alive, let alone in one piece. His spark thrummed with fear as the masked human boldly standing on his chest drove the saw in his hand straight into his right optic, effectively offlining it and severing it from his helm completely. What felt like solar-cycles passed, when in reality was barely over a joor, as they started cutting into him, forcing open his chest plates to allow them unwilling access to his sensitive inner workings. Warnings upon warnings exploded across his HUD, but he was powerless to the humans.

Despite the pain coursing along his sensor net, the only thing going through his processor was Knockout. If he made it out of here, the doctor would surely murder him himself for getting hurt again. But if he didnt make it...

No. He didn’t want to imagine someone else assisting Knockout in his absence. Listening to the sleek racer vent his frustrations and offering the latest of vehicon gossip. The casual chatter, the casual flirting and banter. It would all be gone. Would the CMO put on a brave face before their leader? What would he do behind closed doors however? Would he be missed?

 

BANG.....BANG.....BANG

Someone was at the bunker doors. With every atom of his spark he prayed it was someone coming to help him.

With another crash, the doors flew open and a massive green mech came barreling through the human gunfire, ignoring the terrified shouting. 

“Marco!!!” Bulkhead swung, almost looking like he was having fun. Not that Breakdown could really tell as he watched the scene unfold upside down. “You’re supposed to say polo!!!” 

Scattering the gun wielding humans, Bulkhead approached him, giving him a hard stare. Breakdown was sure his enemy would take this opportunity to finally smash his lights out. Not that he could blame him. This was an easy shot to take. 

"Looks like it’s your lucky day." Bulkhead grunted darkly, prying off Breakdown's restraints. 

Though Bulk was the last mech on this fragging planet he expected to burst through those doors, he was grateful nonetheless.

Between the two of them, they managed to fight their way out, where they were met with Starscream and several eradicons.  
Despite everything in his spark screaming that it was wrong, he obeyed his commander's orders, attacking Bulkhead until the rest of the autobots showed up.

Too tired to think about picking sides and all that, he drove through the ground bridge and made a beeline for the medical wing, ignoring Starscream's order to debrief as soon as possible. There was someone he needed to see. Now.

Knockout's comm pinged on the emergency frequency, with no information other than it was urgent.

\-----

From the moment that the news came across the comms that Breakdown was missing, everyone knew to avoid Knockout if at all possible.

And it was the pity that was infuriating. Didn't they have work to do? Weren't they supposed to be getting him back?!?

And then, finally, a break.

Knockout's spark sank in his chassis at the sound of the emergency ping. He'd been pacing back and forth in the medbay since Starscream left for the surface; the only reason he hadn't gone down himself is because he knew he'd need to have the medbay ready for...whatever happened.

So focused was he, that he almost didn't hear the telltale heavy pedefall he'd come to know by spark.

He turned slowly.

Breakdown stood in the doorway, systems cycling loudly like he'd been running. It looked like someone had tried to dismantle him... And his optic...

He approached him carefully, raising faintly tremoring servos up to rest on torn blue plating.

"Break..." He asked gently, his vocal processor cracking, "What happened?"

"I-...they-... It was-..." Breakdown's vocal processor was thick with static and his glossa felt heavy and unwilling to cooperate. He sucked in deeply through his vents to try and calm his still racing engine, his cooling fans humming noisily after his fight for his life and speeding down to the medbay. After opening and closing his mouth once more, he quickly gave up on trying to speak and decided that his actions would speak louder in this moment anyway.

He moved quickly, his touch demanding but gentle. His servos reached out and took Knockout by the waist, tugging sharply until their chestplates collided with a solid thump. Before he could really think too hard about it, he pulled the sleek racer down and locked lip-plates with him. In that moment, he couldn't care less that his optic socket was still open and raw and he was sporting several man-made lacerations around the cracks in his plating as the humans had forced their way into his access points to try and get at the delicate machinery beneath. The only thing on his processor now was to make up for all the opportunities he'd missed to fess up to the racer before he lost the opportunity for good.

Knockout in-vented sharply at the feeling of insistent hands on his waist, and he was already reaching to carefully cup Breakdown's helm with his servos when their lip-plates met. He couldn't help the tiny almost-sob that escaped him, pressing forward as much as he dared without worsening any injuries.

As he held the wonderful, ridiculous bot close, Knockout felt like his chassis couldn't hold his spark, that it would keep expanding until it enveloped him, and Breakdown, and the whole ship. 

He didn't want to let go, but his worry for Breakdown slowly cut through the haze, and he guided him backwards to the medberth. Reluctantly, he pulled away, just far enough to help him up.

When he spoke, his vocal processor sounded nothing like its normal smooth tones.

"Come on, I'm going to fix you. And then you're going to tell me who did this."

Still not trusting himself to talk yet, Breakdown only nodded numbly and allowed Knockout to guide him to relax against the medberth. He suppressed the smallest of shudders, remembering that not even a joor ago, he was strapped to one much like this one. He likely would have died on one had it not been for Bulkhead of all mechs. Damn it. Now he owed that afthole... Owed him for his own life. Owed him for saving his aft so he could return to Knockout.

The medical scanner HUD showed traumatic enucleation of the right optic, as well as a deep, jagged incision line sawn parallel to the seam of his chestplates and several other saw cuts to various joints. It was all very crude, but precise. It was clear that those who had done this knew what they were looking for, but didn't care enough to make a clean job of it.

The more Knockout examined Breakdown's injuries, the angrier he became; they were not the random damage accumulated during a fight, but systematic torture. He would know.

"Break, I need to-" he stopped as he noticed the tense way that the fighter held himself on the medberth, not at all like usual.

He thought for a moment, and then leaned down to press a kiss right above his undamaged optic, murmuring gently,  
"Break, there are a lot of repairs I need to do, but I won't put you in stasis if you don't want me to. I can just disable your pain sensors. What would you prefer? Or even-"

Breakdown shook his helm, forcing himself to relax. "No. This is fine. I.... I trust you." He nodded. Maybe stasis would give him the break he needed from his own processor. Being unconscious didn’t sound like such a bad deal in that moment.

"Do what you have to do. I'll be okay. But uh, when you're done and I'm ready to go again...I'd like to take you out for a cruise. There's a place I think you'll like." He mumbled, slowly relaxing back against the medberth. Perhaps a cruise would give them the chance to talk about this...thing between them. Plus it would give his processor something to chew on other than the horrors he'd witnessed at the hands of those humans.

Knockout forced thoughts of retribution from his processor for now, and smiled, making sure to make optic contact. "Well! If I didn't have a reason to work efficiently before, I certainly do now!" He placed one servo on Breakdown's arm as he initiated stasis, and kept it there until he was sure he was out.

He spent the next few hours painstakingly combing through every single one of Breakdown's systems, making sure everything was repaired to the best of his ability. But there was only thing he couldn't fix...

Back home he could have gotten a replacement optic without issue. On this backwards rock though, he'd just have to make a patch to keep the delicate insides safe until he could figure out how to make one.  
\---------  
Breakdown could tell from the moment he onlined his optic, he no longer had the depth perception that two optics allowed him. He couldn’t help but feel the smallest pang of disappointment. Though he figured they wouldn’t have a spare just laying around, he still had held out a sliver of hope. Damn....

He slowly reached a servo up to touch where his right optic had been, finding instead a solid plate neatly covering the gaping hole of his optic socket. Pride quickly overtook any disappointment he'd felt. Leave it up to Knockout to make a patch so neat and smooth. Knowing him, it probably looked as good as it felt.

He shifted around on the medberth, feeling all of the fresh repairs and sensitive new welds.

"Pretty sure I’m becoming more welds than plating..." He grunted, half to himself.

\---

"Idiots." Knockout grumbled as he made his way back to the medbay from the bridge. He'd gotten a 'stern talking to' for putting Breakdown in stasis instead of sending him to be debriefed.

Starscream didn't scare him, but he could still make their lives remarkably inconvenient, so he'd taken the lecture with minimal complaints. And honestly, his thoughts were occupied with far more important things.

He turned the corner to the medbay to see Breakdown stirring, mumbling something about plating.

"Complaints about the care you've gotten?" Knockout asked, voice haughty, though the side of his mouth curved up in a smile.

"Wha..? Frag no. You're the best 'n you know it." Still just a little groggy post-stasis, Breakdown gave Knockout a goofy grin and pushed himself into a seated position. 

"Just saying.... here soon I'm gonna be all welds and no plating." With a shrug, he swung his legs over the edge to let his pedes dangle just above the floor. "What are you gonna do with me then?" He chuckled.

Seeing Breakdown awake and cheerful, immediately banished any lingering annoyance at the dressing-down he'd gotten. Feeling light, he stepped over to check his vitals one more time.  
"What am I going to do with you then? Or what am I going to do with you now?" he asked, with a wink.

"Once I'm outta the medbay, you can do whatever you like with me." He teased right back, wanting to return wink but realizing very quickly that winking was no longer an option for him. Well scrap... That kinda sucked.

Knockout leaned in.

"So, how are you feeling? Any pain? Any dizziness? Any...unique symptoms I should know about?"

"I feel pretty good. No pain or anything. But my systems haven’t yet accommodated to my uh... mono-vision. Feels pretty weird still. But hey, as long as it looks cool right?" He grinned, "I don't have to worry about that though. I know you wouldn't let me leave without makin' me look 100%.”

"Of course!" He replied, with mock affront, "I'm not one of those saw-struts the Autobots employ." He reached up and ran a digit along the edge of the optical patch.  
"I saw an opportunity to make you look even more rogueish, and I took it."

At some point he'd gently get Breakdown to talk about what had happened. But for now, if it helped him to avoid thinking about it, well, Knockout could do distraction too.

"Not that I've got an ulterior motive, but what do you say we get out of here?"

"Yep. Let's scram and you can educate me on this 'ulterior motive' on the way, doc." He chuckled and pushed himself off the medberth and onto his pedes.

As he followed Knockout down the hall, he closed the distance between them and stole a gentle, flirtatious tug to one of his wheels, smirking playfully.

Smiling brightly, Knockout swatted at the offending servo. "Hey now, you're the one who wanted to take me on a cruise."

As they passed his room, Knockout paused. "Hold on for a moment."

He disappeared inside, and then reappeared a few minutes later, a contemplative look on his face that he schooled back into cheerfulness when he met Breakdown's optic.

"Shall we?" He said with a laugh before taking off at a run down the hall.

"Ha!" Breakdown barked a sharp laugh and broke into a heavy sprint after the red racer. After a few heavy steps he jumped and shifted into his alt mode, engine roaring as he sped past Knockout. "Come on hotwheels! Or I'll leave you behind!" He taunted, knowing he wouldn’t stand a chance one Knockout shifted. Still, it was fun to taunt the racer while he had the opportunity.

For a brief moment, he wondered why Knockout had wanted to stop by his quarters. But with a full blown race down the halls to focus on (while the big M was out, mind you), the thought was quickly blown from his processor as he focused on playfully blocking the racer from passing him.

"Not likely!" Knockout crowed, leaping into a shift and hitting the ground rolling. He sped up to right behind Breakdown, maintaining a tight distance.

"I'm going to get you~" he sang. "Better not slow do~wn!"

He shifted just enough to grab on to Breakdown's rear bumper, and vaulted himself over, speeding ahead, laugh echoing.

"Come on, Breaks, what are you waiting for!"

Breakdown found himself back to chasing taillights in the blink of an optic. Not that he minded staring at Knockout's rear bumper. Not at all. His heavy diesel engine growled as he wound his RPMs out as far as he could go to even keep up with Knockout. Even then he knew Knockout was holding back. Not out of pity. He'd never felt like the racer looked down on him. That was one of the things he loved about Knockout. No, he was holding back simply for the thrill of the chase.

And all the better for him to slowly gain and catch up long enough to bump his bullbar against Knockout's rear.

"Dont get too comfy up there!! Cuz your aft is grass when I catch you!!"

"Is that a promise?" He called back, swerving right and left teasingly. Frag, the sound of that engine!

"Its a guarantee." Breakdown growled threateningly, a grinning lilt in his tone.

This was how he liked to see Breakdown, having fun, in good spirits, no battles in sight.  
If everything worked out the way he'd planned....

But first, "Oops, looks like this hallway won't last forever. Bet you'll stop first!"

And he was right. Breakdown wasn’t near light enough to be able to stop on a dime like racer mechs and he was forced to let off his acceleration and put on the brakes, pulling up just before the hall ended in the doorway that led to the main bridge. His engine idled low and throaty, nice and warm after their little sprint down the long halls of the Nemesis.

"You're lucky the walls have audials, or I'd have your aft right here. But you'll just have to wait until we get to where we're going." He shifted out of his alt mode and smirked. Of course, he was referring to Soundwave, who was likely already aware of their little rulebreaking race down the hall. Any more than that and they'd be in real trouble. But what happens off ship, stays off ship, and that is exactly where he was headed. Hopefully they'd get Soundwave to bridge them off ship without too many questions...

Knockout spun to a stop, shifting smoothly into a pose against the door frame. He let his gaze rove over the fighter as he changed, not hiding his appreciation in the least, but showing what he considered to be remarkable restraint in resisting the urge to test how warm Breakdown's plates had gotten.  
"What's all this about my aft?" he murmured, dragging his optics upwards with a smile.

Not for the first time, Knockout marveled at how fortunate he was, all things considered.

"And where are we headed anyway?"

"We're headed to a place called Nunya...... Nunya business." Breakdown retorted, leaning up into Knockout's personal space to reach the door control pad behind him to open the door. With his proximity, Knockout didn't even need to touch to feel the warmth radiating from Breakdown's paneling.

"Kidding. But hold your horsepower. You'll see." And with that promise, he opened the door and led the way to where Soundwave was connected into the control panel of the ship, the HUD before him flashing page after page of reports and other important things. However the flow of information halted as they drew closer, which Breakdown assumed meant he was acknowledging their presence. As good a time as any to start talking. "Heyyyy Soundwave... So uh, Knockout and I are headed out. Gotta scout some. I put in the coordinates earlier... Mind opening a bridge?" Breakdown always hated talking to Soundwave. Hard to talk to a guy that...you know...didn't talk.

And speaking of, Soundwave's blank helm turned to face him, immediately giving Breakdown the fragging creeps. C'mon dude. Simple 'yeah sure' would do fine... But after what felt like a solid breem of getting the stare down from Soundwave, the familiar whoosh of a groundbridge opening echoed through the control bridge, bathing the area in greenish light.

"Uh, thanks." Breakdown was quick to break optic contact and usher Knockout through the bridge before Soundwave decided to change his mind.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyyyyyyyy. We're back with another chapter! Thank you all so much for all the kind comments and kudos. We appreciate every single one of them. <3
> 
> With love, Punk & Miyoko.

Through the bridge, both mechs were bathed in warm, mid afternoon light from the Earth's sun. To their right, rolling green hills stretched as far as the optic could see. To their left, the gorgeous rocky coastline of California, the vivid blue Pacific ocean crashing gently against the dark rocks, kicking up white froth. Beneath their pedes was a beautifully empty two lane road, winding its way into the horizon, it's curves following the lay of the land in the most wonderful way.

Knockout's optics widened as he took in the lush scenery. This planet... It was nothing like Cybertron, all green and curves where he was used to silver edges, but no bot could deny that this was beautiful. And whatever else, being here had brought them to this point.

"Over a thousand kilometers long... I found this road a while back on accident while scouting. Thought you might like it. We have at least a solar cycle to explore it." Breakdown reset his vocalizer, shifting slightly from pede to pede, hoping KO would like it. The sun reflected off that rich red and made it near impossible to look anywhere else, no matter which side you viewed him from. Against the rich forest green of the hills or the vivid cobalt of the ocean, he stood out like a freshly polished gem. Which, in Breakdown's opinion wasn't far from the truth.

Knockout turned slowly to Breakdown; his companion, who had been planning this even in the aftermath of torture, who stood there with the road and sky stretching out behind him without end, and who was looking at him like-

Knockout stepped towards him, feeling strangely unsteady on his pedes. Not a sensation he was used to, at least not since he was a much younger mech, but it was becoming frighteningly common in Breakdown's presence. He reached out and grasped the fighter's servos, tangling their digits together.

I'm going to save you.

"Breaks... I- this is-"

"This is alright, right? I know it’s nothing like home but I figured, y'know... maybe you'd like the contrast of the colors and the emptiness of the road. It’s far enough from the ocean, you shouldn't have to worry about catching any of the saltwater on your paint, but it’s close enough to see it and hear it 'n stuff... and you know I'd help buff you out if you did end up with some sea spray on you..." Breakdown knew he was babbling, but normally Knockout had more to say than this and he couldn’t help the worry that gnawed at the back of his processor. Did he not like it..?

He could feel sleek digits interweaving between his own thicker ones and he gave the speedster's servos a gentle squeeze.

"Is this okay..?"

Knockout couldn't help but laugh lightly at poor Breakdown's rambling. "It's perfect." He breathed, before leaning up to place a soft kiss on his lip plates.

"Now! I can see why you chose this location." He said, taking a step backwards, pulling on their linked arms playfully, "We look damn good out here, even if those shoulders are blocking most of the view."

He looked down one the road one way, and then the other. "So, where are we headed, sweetspark?"

A blue tinged blush flashed across his ruddy face and he chuckled bashfully. He swore he was the luckiest mech in the galaxy to have the attention of such a gorgeous mech like the one currently hanging off his arms.. "Sorry doc. Can't help it." He shrugged said shoulders, giving the servos linked with his own one last squeeze before letting go.

"As for where we're going, that's up to you. We've got the rest of the solar cycle to explore and you know I could stare at your taillights for joors. So you tell me. Where we goin'?" Amusement danced in his yellow optic. It wasn't often that either of them were able to throw off the ties that bound them to their work and the cause and simply be free for a while.

He folded his arms and made a show of hemming and hawing, tapping a digit against his chin. "Where to go, where to go... Where to go to get a handsome bot all to myself..." He said with a wink. He looked North, along the road that curved around green hills and disappeared into the distance.

There was no reason to keep anything from Breakdown; the plan would work better if he knew. But there was no way to express it without giving them away if they were being...observed.

"Let's drive North," he said, voice light but searching Breakdown's optic carefully. "Let's drive North until we can't anymore."

Clueless to any of Knockout's plans, Breakdown gave a nod, gazing back into bright scarlet optics. "Sounds good."

He waited for Knockout to shift first before following suit and falling into line behind the sleek racer. It was nice to ease onto the road and simply follow the pace of the racer as best he could. If Knockout put on a burst of speed during the straightaways, Breakdown would keep up for a bit before eventually falling behind, catching back up to him when the road started to curve and bend once more. The hum of their engines in unison was something Breakdown swore he could listen to for eons. Knockout's fierce v12 growl mixed with his own deep turbo diesel rumble in a thundering roar of aggressive horsepower. Most of the humans they passed on the road were quick to move aside to let them pass, and those that didn't, Breakdown was more than happy to swap places with Knockout and take a more manual approach.

No, no humans were harmed. Just pushed aside by a couple tons of armored truck. Not that he particularly cared, but pointlessly killing humans would draw attention to them and this was supposed to be a stress-free day without any 'cons or 'bots on their afts.

It felt amazing to be able to just open up and go for a while; as large as it was, the Nemesis seemed cramped and dark, and sorely low on privacy. Fresh, cool air that smelled strongly of saltwater and sand rushed over them as they sped up the seemingly endless winding path, weaving around humans and their boring machines.

That fresh air was convenient too, as more than once, Breakdown passed close by with that damned distracting rumble and Knockout's whole frame felt like it was going to vibrate right off of his wheels.

After a few joors the coastline started to change, from rolling hills to forest, and with the dimming light, it seemed like a good idea to turn off into an area where they could hide from human eyes.

Knockout led them off of the road, not particularly enjoying trying to drive on more rugged terrain, but needs must. Soon they reached a little space between the huge trees that looked like it might afford them some privacy.

It was when KO pulled off the road and into the dirt that Breakdown started to suspect something was up. Knockout never willingly went off-road. Especially if 'off-road' meant even a little rocky and dirty. And this was more than a little of both those things.

The trees that surrounded them were massive, even to cybertronians like themselves. A quick wireless internet search provided the name. California Redwoods.

"Hey doc, I think we missed our exit," He teased lightly, hoping to get some sort of answer out of the racer as to why they were sneaking off into the woods. They were supposed to be cruising, not 4x4ing.

Knockout wished the only reason for the detour was for some quality time. They deserved that. Time to explore this new aspect to their relationship, time to mess around in the dark corners of Nemesis, laughing and hiding from the higher-ups. But this was more important, and it didn't feel safe to wait. Every mission Breakdown went on was another chance that-

He shifted, waiting until Breakdown had done the same, and then approaching him with a smile that didn't quite reach his optics.

Knockout threw his arms around him, squeezing tightly and making a light "shh" noise. With one digit, he slowly traced symbols against blue plates.

[L-e-t-s r-u-n a-w-a-y]

It took nearly a whole cycle for the blue mech to realize Knockout was writing letters and not just caressing his plating. It took another half-cycle to realize what he was spelling. His single optic widened as realization dawned on his face. A million questions suddenly buzzed through his processor. Right now? What brought this on? Was he serious? How would they do it? Where would they go? Megatron would have their helms if he ever caught them. They could never go back. Why did he want this? What did he hope to gain? Their only two options were to run and fly solo, running the risk of being found. They'd have to be constantly on the move, with no real protection. Their second option would be to turn tail completely and join the 'bots... Would Knockout really want to go that far? It would be safer, but the consequences would be quadruple fold if they were ever caught by the 'cons...

His optic stared into Knockout's searchingly as he brought his servos up to rest lightly on Knockout's waist, all of those questions and whirlwind of emotions playing across his face. His processor hummed as he searched desperately for a single question that Knockout would understand that any eavesdropping audials wouldn’t. A question that would answer as much as possible without giving anything away.

"Are you sure?"

The fact that Breakdown didn't immediately back away or outright turn down the idea was heartening, although now it meant Knockout had to make sure the plan actually worked.

"I'm sure. I want to spend as much time with you as I can."

Please understand me….

They could stay on the Nemesis, maybe they'd beat the bots in the end, maybe they wouldn't, but chances are they wouldn't even survive to see the end of the war. And what was the point? What had the fight become after all this time if they couldn't even look forward to a life with the ones important to them?

Knockout leaned up, lowering his voice seductively. "I know of a way we can get some time alone, but you'll have to trust me, and you'll have to keep up." He pressed himself more fully against the taller mech. If anyone was watching, they'd think they were interrupting the negotiation for a tryst.

But tucked into the plates of his right arm were two small discs that when adhered and activated, would block their signals for almost 24 joors.

"Think you can do that for me?"

Breakdown’s servos traced digits along Knockout's lean waist and he angled his helm downward to murmur into the racer's audial. "Lead the way."

Despite all of the what ifs and everything that could possibly go wrong playing through his head, he knew what his decision was. He'd follow this mech to the ends of whatever planet they found themselves on.

There really was no telling what the gorgeous mech in his arms was planning, but whatever it was, he would be ready.

"Lead the way"

"Okay." Knockout stepped forward, pushing Breakdown back carefully until they hit one of the redwoods, bringing his servos up to rest on the sensitive plates over his neck. Deftly, he slipped one of the signal blockers under Breakdown's left pauldron.

They only had a limited time to somehow find the Autobot base and hopefully convince them not to offline them on sight, and the moment they disappeared from radar, the cons would be onto them, so he wouldn't activate it until they were full speed on the highway.

"And just in case..." He whispered, before pulling the fighter's helm down to meet his in a hungry kiss.

Now that was something Breakdown understood immediately. Electricity seemed to radiate from where Knockout's lips slanted across his own. His spark thrummed needily against his thick chestplates and he ex-vented a breathy little rumble, tugging Knockout just a little closer. Everything he knew was being flipped upside down in the blink of an optic and yet he didn’t feel as concerned as he should have been.

But he knew they weren’t gonna have much time if the plan was to speed out of there, so with a possessive little nip to Knockout's lower lip plate, he reluctantly released his hold and drew back. "I'll race ya." He grinned, hoping to lighten the mood. What they were about to do was serious and they were both putting their sparks on the line. But that didn’t mean they couldn’t have a little fun doing it.

After Breakdown slowly pulled away, Knockout spared himself a second to lock the previous few moments into his memory. If everything went to slag, and they ended up in pieces in the desert, he knew exactly where his processor would be.

With an answering grin, the racer stepped back. "You sure you want to do that? You may have the upper hand out here, but once we get back on the road..." He saluted like he'd seen on some human show, and spun into a shift, hightailing it out of the trees as quickly as he could.

Once they were on the highway, he'd activate the beacons, and then they had a 10ish hour drive to the middle of Nevada. The bots were good at hiding their base, but after countless encounters, he'd narrowed it's location down slightly. Once in the general area, they'd cause a ruckus and hopefully get them to show up...

Breakdown charged forward and shifted smoothly, his heavy tires consuming the rough terrain with ferocity unmatched. He gained on Knockout and passed him with a teasing honk (meep meep!), avoiding kicking up rocks until they were back on the asphalt where he knew Knockout would overtake him once more, leaving him back in his favorite spot. Chasing those triumphant taillights that always seemed just out of reach.

\-----------

Several joors into the drive, just after midnight, found them crossing the California/Nevada border. Even though he'd activated the blockers, Knockout had felt uneasy about using comms, and as a result, the quiet (other than their engines of course) was starting to get to him. 

He wanted to tell Breakdown a stupid joke, hear his deep chuckle, or even better, flirt outrageously and listen to him sputter out a response. But he was just too on edge, too focused on what might be around the next bend.

This deep in the Rockies, Breakdown would have expected more....something. But this particular stretch of highway seemed so quiet and empty. Not even the local wildlife seemed to be making a sound. It seemed almost as if every single living thing in their vicinity was collectively holding their breath. Nervous electricity seemed to buzz along his struts and something deep down in his processor screamed, "this is wrong..!"

In the end though, there was no warning about the attack. One moment they were cruising along, and the next, a bridge, bright and sudden, unfurled in front of them, their worst nightmare incarnate materializing from it's depths.

"So... Here you are..." Megatron murmured, already manifesting weapons.

Megatron's words were calm in a way that spoke of certain death, neither swift nor kind. Breakdown was the first to shift, sparks flying from his pedes as he skidded to a stop before his former leader. The only thought running through his mind was to protect Knockout. He knew Knockout was more than capable of protecting himself, but this was going to come down to an all out brawl if they survived long enough to fight. He knew neither of them were a match for the ancient gladiator, but he hoped he himself would be able to put up long enough of a fight for Knockout to flee with his spark intact.

"Yeah, here we are. Now move! I have a hot date and I'd like to make it on time." He growled, drawing his own hammer and doing his damnedest to stare down the massive old gladiator.

Knockout wasn't overly proud of the turn he executed in order to put some distance between himself and Megatron when the ground bridge opened practically on top of him, but there was no way he was going to survive if he let Megs get any hits in. He sped over to Breakdown, shifting and taking a defensive stance just behind the blue fighter with his energon prod drawn. He took a moment to remotely shut off their signal blockers. It was a long shot, but if the end goal was to get the 'bots to show up, well, this would definitely alert them to their presence.

"I'm disappointed," Megatron said, with deceptive ease, "I had a feeling the good doctor here would turn traitor sooner or later, but you, Breakdown?" He leveled his cannon at them. "You always seemed more sensible. Maybe I'll give you a chance to explain."

The fusion cannon wound up with a threatening hum as he trained it on the fighter.

Of all of the scary things he'd done in his lifetime, Breakdown had to admit to himself that staring down the humming barrel of Megatron's fusion cannon as it took aim at his own chest where his spark thrummed with nervous energy was one of the most terrifying things he swore he'd ever done in his life. Not that it would be continuing after this moment, his life. Nope. Not many could say they took on the big M themselves and lived, and he hadn't exactly had the best of luck recently.

"You thought wrong. I go where he goes." He maintained his defensive growl, refusing to break the optic contact. It was now or never.

With a shout, he drew back and swung, the head of his hammer striking Megatron's arm, knocking aside the cannon and the shot taken, leaving a singed hole in the rocks behind them instead of a hole through Breakdown's chest. With his second swing, he aimed a swing right for the left side of Megatron's middle, where the seams of his scarred armor came together.

"Run!!!" He shouted, hoping Knockout would hear him and get the frag out of there.

No one could deny that Breakdown was strong, and Megatron grunted in pain as the swing hit home, denting the metal plates of his side and forcing him to take a step backwards, bringing his other He laughed, a low, crackling thing that held absolutely no actual amusement.

"You've got it the wrong way around, I'm afraid." he growled, "He'll be going where you go."

~  
Knockout desperately diverted as much energy as he could spare to his signal beacon. Where are they?? Rusted, slag-sucking...

~  
Megatron lifted his cannon for another shot but nanokliks before he fired, he shifted the barrel of his cannon to the right. The shot echoed loudly between the rocky hillsides. For a split moment, Breakdown assumed the old gladiator was really starting to lose his touch and missed.

~  
Any other time, the Autobots would be here before we could even-

 

Suddenly, Knockout felt like he'd been hit by a train. He hadn't been watching, hadn't been paying enough attention, so focused was he on sending out any signals he could think of.  
Pain exploded over his sensor net, and his energon prod clattered to the ground as he fell. He looked down; the metal of his chest plates was twisted and torn, and he could see the edge of his own spark chamber through the hole.

"B-Breaks-"

\---

Knockout's voice sounded wrong... Something was wrong... Forgetting the massive mech before him, Breakdown spun around and immediately spotted the still smoking hole in Knockout's chest. 

 

Megatron hadn’t missed.

The world seemed to collapse and fold in on itself around Breakdown. He could no longer hear, no longer see anything but the red racer clutching the gaping hole in his chest as he crumbled to the asphalt.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyyyy It's Punk again! Glad y'all liked me 'n Miyoko's cliffhanger! Have another chapter. 
> 
> With love,   
> Punk and Miyoko!

"KNOCKOUT!!!"

Abandoning his fight, Breakdown turned and bolted over to Knockout's side, heavy pedes kicking up dirt and gravel in his haste. "Knockout…!" His servos only hesitated for a second before scooping up the mech's lean racing frame into his arms. This was wrong... It wasn't supposed to be like this..!! In the darkness, he could see the faint blue glow of a still thrumming spark in the medic's chest. "Doc... I got you... Don't die.... Primus please....don't die..." He mumbled, his voice heavy with desperation.

Knockout forced his optics open as he felt himself being lifted by Breakdown's familiar arms. The big lug would have made a terrible spy, every feeling he had ever felt in his life had been reflected on that silly, handsome face, and so there was no hiding from the doctor how bad the current situation was.

"Sorry Breaks-" he managed to say through the static in his vocalizer, "Guess I- should have planned this one better..." As he gazed up into that desperate yellow optic, he raised a servo to rest on Breakdown's chest, right over his spark. 

The dull clank of heavy footsteps on rocky soil cut through the haze. 

 

_No…. No..!!_

 

"Breaks, love, you have to turn around-" Knockout tried futilly to push Breakdown away.

Megatron halted mere meters from where the pair were curled together.

 

"Fools… There is no place for traitors. Your path ends here." He raised his cannon, holding it steady with his other arm, and powering up.

Breakdown turned his head, still clutching the racer close, finding himself once again face to face with the business end of Megatron's cannon. There was no dodging this. For the umpteenth time since landing on this Primus-forsaken planet, he stared death in the face, this time baring his dentae defiantly. His only regret was not being able to protect the dying mech in his arms. 

Neither of them noticed the telltale light of a second ground bridge opening up.

Moments before the cannon went off, a wild shot deflected off Megatron's right pauldron, causing him to flinch and misfire, barely sparing the blue bruiser. 

“What?!” The old gladiator hissed, furious. 

Optimus, flanked by Bulkhead and Bumblebee came charging through the ground bridge, blasters raised and firing. Distracted by the three fighters, Megatron could pay no mind to the fourth autobot that ran through the portal, making a beeline for the two refugees. 

Ratchet approached quickly, but was forced to put his hands up and halt in his tracks when Breakdown turned and snarled something threatening at him. 

“Hey, easy..! I need to assess him before I can help him and you.” Ratchet's voice was stern and guarded, but quiet. Breakdown hesitated and the two mechs stared each other down for a full cycle before Breakdown sucked air through his vents and looked away, which Ratchet took as a sign to come close and kneel down to run a quick initial scan on his patient. Breakdown couldn’t see what exactly the scan revealed, but Ratchet’s darkened expression was pretty clear. It was as bad as it looked. 

“I need to get him back to our base where I can stabilize him. Can you walk? Are you injured?” Ratchet stood up and Breakdown answered the medic’s inquiries by standing up and carrying Knockout bridal style. If following the old autobot medic was his only choice to save Knockout, he'd take it. The sounds of battle continued as Ratchet impatiently ushered them through the groundbridge. 

Upon stepping through the bridge, they were greeted by three pairs of curious human eyes and one pair of suspicious optics, belonging to the aggressive little two wheeler manning the ground bridge controls. 

“Ratchet. What are they doing here.” It was less of a question and more of a demand. Arcee’s tone was low and accusatory and normally Breakdown would have glared back or found an equally rude retort, but he kept his helm down, mumbling quiet, comforting things to the recumbent, limp mech in his arms. 

“Ep ep ep!! Quiet! I have an emergency patient I need to deal with. Worry about yourself and wait for Optimus’ signal.” Ratchet glared and pointed at the still active groundbridge. Arcee grumbled something under her breath, but turned back to the groundbridge controls.

Ratchet led them to the only medberth in the small silo the autobots called a base, instructing Breakdown to set the patient down and move aside. More than used to bossy medics, Breakdown moved as if on autopilot, silently easing Knockout onto the medberth and stepping back as Ratchet set to work inducing stasis and hooking up various monitors and HUD displays to get a better assessment on the injured decepticon medic’s condition. 

\-----

"This is not your concern, Prime." Megatron spat, squaring his shoulders as he stepped towards them.

Tilting his helm in disappointment, Optimus kept his blaster trained as his teammates took positions nearby. "The fact that you're confused by our response to a distress beacon shows how far gone you are." His response was cold, but he kept in mind that he’d only needed to hold off Megatron long enough for Ratchet to do his assessment and return to safety with his patient(s). With that goal having been completed, it was time to go. 

Uttering a quick order through internal comms, they backed through the ground bridge, Bumblebee firing at Megatron's pedes to cause the dust to stir up in front of him and obstruct his view, granting them their small window to escape.

\-----

Back at the base, Ratchet was working quickly to stabilize his patient while Arcee glowered by the ground bridge controls, and Breakdown hovered just out of reach of the medical berth. Just before the ground bridge closed, Optimus and the other stepped through, holstering their weapons. The Prime looked... distraught to say the least.

"Breakdown." He said, grimly, "I think an explanation is in order."

 

Breakdown was snapped from his hovering, much to Ratchet's obvious relief. He turned slowly to stare up at the Prime, his expression grim and a little dejected.

"I uh... yeah. I can explain..." Was his mumbling reply as he averted optic contact.

"Knockout wanted to leave...I don't know why. I think he saw how much more unstable things were getting, how much more unpredictable Megatron was becoming. He's the CMO there on the Nemesis, so he was seeing first hand the result of missions against you lot, missions doomed to fail... and I was there on the front lines.” He made sure to omit any of the...mushy stuff. "Made it look like a simple cruise outside for some fresh air. He had frequency blockers and we were using them, but clearly it didn't work cuz ol' Megs still found us...." He shifted from pede to pede, hoping his explanation would be enough. This was Knockout's plan, and he was far better at talking and explaining than he was.

 

“Thought you two could come waltzing in and you’d be welcome? Not a chance after the scrap you pulled last time we saved your sorry aft.” Bulkhead accused and Breakdown bared his gritted dentae, hissing out a retort before he could stop himself.

 

“Hey! How about you frag right off and go play with your stupid little fleshie before I knock your helm right off your shoulders.”

 

"Enough!"

Optimus ex-vented loudly enough for the two bickering mechs to hear. It didn't seem like Breakdown was being dishonest, but then again it didn't seem like he was the one behind the plan either. They'd have to get more details out of Knockout when, and if, he recovered. They weren't in a position to scorn the additions to their ranks, but...

Bee, who had strategically placed himself between the 'cons and their human guests, beeped rapidly.

"I agree." Optimus said, reaching a servo out, "We'll need you to turn over your weapons for the time being. I'm sure you understand why."

Of course they'd want his weapons. Breakdown didn’t hesitate though, knowing this was what he had to do to get them to fix Knockout. A loud clatter echoed through the silo as he removed his own weapons and tossed them to the ground at Optimus' pedes. Bulkhead was quick to come forward and snatch the weapons up, twin sledgehammers and the blaster, and carry them off to most likely lock them away.

\---

Arcee was being unusually quiet as she stood back by the humans. "Arcee...you okay..? I figured you'd have more to say about two cons being inside the base." Jack, who had been observing quietly with Raf, leaned over to talk to his partner. "There’s something going on that he's not telling us. I don’t know what it is, but there’s more to his story than he's letting on." She ex-vented a sigh, still watching Optimus talk to the now ex-con. "Do you think it's something bad?" He asked. "I don’t know. But 'cons aren’t known for their attachments to others and Breakdown here doesn’t seem willing to let Knockout out of his sight." She observed. "Whatever it is, I doubt he's gonna be the one to talk about it. If Ratchet manages to repair Knockout, he's gonna be the one with all of the information and a mouth big enough to spill everything we need to know."

\---

"I see." The Prime relaxed slightly as he began to comprehend the situation - they had run away together. He allowed himself to feel just a little smug that they'd thought to come to the Autobots when a positive interpersonal relationship was on the line. That's one of the reasons you'll lose, old friend.

But as he glanced at Ratchet's expression, he realized all might not be resolved in the way he hoped. There was no telling what Breakdown would do if his companion did not survive.

He left the former con where he stood, trusting Arcee and Bumblebee to watch him, and approached his own medic. "Ratchet, what is the current prognosis?"

 

The racer was laying still on the medberth, unnervingly silent. Even with Optimus' rudimentary medical knowledge, he knew that to be a bad sign. Mechs were very rarely silent; there was always a fan kicking on, a processor humming, etc, but whatever systems Knockout still had running were quiet enough not to be heard over the medical computers.

“I’m currently patching and redirecting several severed main energon lines. I’ll need to set up an intra-line drip to try and replenish what he’s lost. He’s stabilizing, but I’m going to need raw material to mend the damaged support struts and make new plating. He’s going to be in stasis for at least a deca-cycle or longer.” Ratchet glanced up, a mixture of fresh and dried energon on his servos as he continued to work as he spoke. “But I’ve patched up worse during the war. He’ll survive. He’ll just need time. Which from what I hear is exactly what you need if you’re gonna cement the idea of switching sides in that one’s processor.” He glanced up to where Breakdown stood awkwardly in the middle of Omega One, looking like he wanted to approach the med berth, but knew better. “I don’t think it’ll take much convincing if he’s speaking the truth, but still. You know we could use the extra help; I’m going to need more supplies than what we have here. Which means you and the others will have to go out and scout for them.” Ratchet spared a glance up at Optimus, who nodded. "If I'm reading the situation correctly, Breakdown will be more than willing to help. We'll get going as soon as it is safe." He knew better than to distract the doctor for too long, so after a brief pat on the pauldron, he moved out of his way.

\---

*tink!* 

Breakdown gave a little twitch and glanced down. The tiny pink-haired human had attempted to kick him, the toe of her boot bouncing uselessly off his pede. “That’s for throwing a column at me!!” She shouted, drawing her foot back to give him another kick he could barely feel. “And that’s for attacking Bulk after he saved you!!” She seemed to be hurting herself more than him as she’d started clutching her foot and hopping around on one leg. 

“Miko!” Bulkhead had just returned from storing the relinquished weapons when he spotted his human partner. He thumped over and quickly scooped her up, kicking and screaming. “Miko, Miko..! Cool it!” He insisted, carrying her over to the platform where Jack and Raf were. “No Bulk! You guys have to kick his butt!! Give him what he deserves!!” She swung her arms wildly. “Miko, right now what that guy deserves is a break. He went toe to toe with Megatron to get here. How about you kick his butt later, huh? You know Optimus is always talking about fair fights. And besides, none of us are gonna let him out of our sight. If he does something, he’ll get what he deserves. Trust me.” Bulk insisted and Miko finally quieted down, folding her arms and continuing to glare at Breakdown. 

“Feisty for something so small.” Breakdown noted, a brow raised at Miko and the other two

“You have no idea…” Arcee spoke up, her gaze following his to where Bulkhead stood with the humans. “He’s got his servos full dealing with her.”

\---

"Hey, Bee," Raf piped up from where he was leaned against a railing on the other side of him, "Do you think he's telling the truth?"

Bee considered it, watching Breakdown's expressions carefully. The blue bruiser looked, for lack of a better word, tired. He didn't make any sudden movements, no furtive glances except in the direction of the medberth. It really... didn't seem like a trick, and he expressed as much to Raf.

His partner visibly relaxed. "Yeah, I mean, you can't exactly fake those sorts of injuries..."

\---

Optimus strode back over to Breakdown. "You know how things can change," he began, carefully, "But for now it seems that your friend will be alright."

Breakdown ex-vented a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, his shoulders slumping slightly in visible relief. 

He knew the bots weren’t going to just repair KO and not expect anything in return. If Knockout really did want to defect to the autobots… Well, he himself might as well get started. 

“I can help.” He mumbled. “Whatever it is you guys need help with. I’m a fighter and… Knockout’s medical assistant.” 

Arcee stepped forward, “Megatron is probably going to be looking for you. Both of you. So you’ll probably have to stay in here for a while and lay low. But while he’s using his resources searching for you, that’ll provide an opportunity for us to invade some of his outlying energon mines and other things to get the supplies we need. But if you mentioned being a medical assistant… I’m sure dealing with Knockout’s attitude is comparable to dealing with Ratchet’s….less than stellar temperament.”

“I may be old, but I can still hear you!” Ratchet snapped, glaring across the silo at Arcee. 

Arcee blatantly ignored the crabby old medic and turned to their leader. “Optimus. If Breakdown is telling the truth about being a medical assistant, I know Ratchet could probably use the help here on base.” 

Optimus nodded with a small sigh. "You are correct, Arcee." He peered at Breakdown, now significantly more relaxed seeming than he had when they'd first arrived, and said sternly. "This is not the place to be if you were hoping for a dramatically different lifestyle. But we treat our own with respect, and you are in no danger from us as long as you do not make any threatening moves. And it would help if you divulge any information Megatron has been hiding that you think might be useful..."

Bee walked quietly over to Bulkhead. He knew his teammate had a complicated relationship with the blue fighter, a fact made evident by the way he'd insulted him and then defended him in the space of a quarter of a joor.

He beeped such that only Bulkhead could hear. [What's your read on this, big guy?]

Bee hadn't been around for the entire war, but he knew full well that loyalty was complicated. He'd lost track of the number of times he'd heard a mech had changed sides in one direction or the other.

Bulkhead stopped whatever he was doing and turned, glancing back at the mech that had been his rival for vorns. “I’m not the biggest fan of having him around. But I gotta put my own scrap aside. We need the extra help and we need the extra bodies if we’re gonna finally end this war. I’m not all that good at reading between the lines, but to me he looks like he’s too exhausted to really lie that hard about this. But like I said, I’m not good at that stuff, so I’m gonna have to just trust Optimus on this one. I still don’t think he should be left to his own devices anytime soon though. Trust is earned.” 

\---

Breakdown nodded. “Information, huh? Knockout has more info than I do, but I’ll give you what I know.” He paused a moment before adding, “Y’know, me ‘n Knockout weren’t expecting everything to be fantastic over on this side. I have my reasons for following him and he has his reasons for wanting to be here rather than there. But what I can tell you is whatever your price is for repairing him and letting us in, it’s cheaper than what it was costing us to be back on the Nemesis.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter, my friends. Enjoy it!
> 
> We're getting close to the end of our prewritten cushion, so updates will probably falter and slow to a trickle for a while. Sorry..! Life has been busy for the both of us and writing has to take a backseat to other responsibilities. ;; 
> 
> Thanks again for all the kudos and comments! They give us the energy to keep on truckin'! 
> 
> With love, Punk and Miyoko

That must have been enough of an answer for the Prime, who gave him a cryptic, but a welcoming sounding reply and strode of to do….whatever it was Primes did in their free time. Breakdown didn’t really know or cared enough to ask. Though, he had the feeling that even if he did ask, his curiosity would be frowned upon and considered suspicious. 

His instincts proved true, for in the next couple days, he was given a list of rules to follow which included but was not limited to: not being allowed to approach or speak to the humans unless he was approached first, not wandering around the base, not using or touching the groundbridge controls, and not touching any of the computers or comm devices. The only places he was allowed to go was the main room(always under supervision), the modestly sized gymnasium, the wash racks, and a small storage room with a makeshift sleeping berth to call his own. 

It wasn’t the worst treatment he’d received and soon enough, he fell into a rhythm. He’d wake up from recharge, pass by the tiny distribution cell for his daily energon allotment, then check in on Ratchet and his patient. Ratchet would tiredly grumble something along the lines of “Nothing new, go away,” which he’d heed and leave the grouchy old medic to his work. 

The rest of the autobots weren’t much kinder, aside from Arcee, who seemed to take the slightest bit of pity on him. He couldn’t figure out why until he’d overheard her talking to her human ‘Jack’ about it, while they hung around in the gymnasium.

“He checks in on him every day. He has to know that nothing has changed in such a short time, but he still does it. I can see it in his face. There’s something more going on between them than just being partners.”

Jack was quiet for a minute, mulling over her words Then, “You see yourself in him, don’t you?”

A sigh from the femme, “I know what it’s like, to do whatever it takes to save your partner. And I know what it’s like when your ‘partner’ is more than just a partner. I’ve been there.”

The conversation stopped when Breakdown decided to quit eavesdropping and walk in, acting like he hadn’t heard a thing. The femme and the human started in on a casual conversation about the weather as he thudded past them to boredly throw around some of the weights. 

\---

He worked hard to prove his usefulness around the base, knowing he was laying the framework for his and Knockout’s trust among the autobots. He did what he was told and kept his helm down. He didn’t say much unless spoken to and didn’t seek out company. 

The humans were keen to avoid him, seeming more than content to observe him from a distance. Well, except for Miko. Several times during his first week there she approached him to give him a piece of her mind. Knowing he’d ruin any trust he’d gained if he so much as looked at her the wrong way, he did his best to ignore her. He did have to admire her nerve however. She was so tiny, but fearless. If she’d been cybertronian, she would have made a valuable asset to either side of the war. 

It didn’t take Miko long to get bored with trying to berate the prisoner who was adamantly ignoring her, so she switched tactics and started trying to ask him things to try to get him to talk at all. She was relentless in her assault. 

“Why did you switch sides, huh?” “How heavy are your hammers?” “Do you and Bulk keep score on your fights?” “How tall are you?” “Did it hurt when you lost your eye?” “Can you still shoot good with one eye?” “Do you miss your other eye?” “You look like a pirate.” “Do you like music?” 

“What’s a pirate?” The question slipped past his lips before he could stop it. His regret in responding to her was almost instantaneous as the tiny human started jabbering on about the ocean and swords and ships and treasure. 

As he waited patiently for her to shut up, the other two humans approached. “Miko, what’s with you and pirates lately?” Jack laughed, catching an elbow to the ribs. “I had to do a report on pirates and learned all kinds of cool stuff! Pirates are badasses!” 

“Hello. I’m Raf.” The smallest human spoke up above the other two, climbing onto the railing to see eye to optic with the blue mech as best he could. 

“Uh...hi…” Was Breakdown’s hesitant reply. 

Raf’s company was significantly easier to handle than Miko’s, as he seemed to know how to handle the blue mech’s hesitancy and awkwardness, casually filling the silence by idly talking about things around base and something funny he saw Bee do the other day. Eventually Jack chimed in, and Breakdown found him to be mostly tolerable as well. 

After that day, the humans quickly deemed him safe enough to hang out with and his life around base became much less boring. Miko insisted on making him listen to human music. Sometimes it wasn’t bad, other times it was….grating. Raf would often pick a spot nearby and tap away on his computer. They’d sit in comfortable silence with only occasional conversation. Jack was often busy and hardly sought out the ex-con, but when he did, it was always amiable. 

\----

“Breakdown. I’m going to need you to come with me. Knockout has recovered enough to be roused from stasis. I need you nearby. He’s likely going to be a bit disoriented after so long in stasis and you’re a friendly face. He’ll be less likely to panic if he can see you.” Ratchet approached him, expression stern.

The blue mech nodded and followed, his spark thrumming nervously in his chest. The bare metal of Ratchet’s patchwork was stark against the typical shiny red of the racer’s paneling, but it looked lightyears better than it did when they first arrived. He rested a heavy servo on the edge of the med berth as Ratched initiated the programming that would rouse Knockout from stasis. 

\-----

Beep...beep...beep

What is that incessant noise? Knockout thought to himself as he tried to open his optic shutters. But why was that so difficult? He tried again. Nothing. Alarmingly, he realized that he wasn't exactly aware of most of his body. There was a bit of sensation in one servo, and he could tell he was laying down, but...

What's...?

He wracked his processor in an effort to figure out what was going on, and slowly he began to have flashes, images from his memory core reconnecting. Working frantically on someone in the medbay. Racing along a curved road in the twilight. Heavy pedefalls behind him.

Servos, warm and insistent on his waist.

Energon dripping on the ground, the faintly glowing cyan a startling and grave contrast to the soil it pooled in..

Breaks...

Breakdown! Frag, frag, I have to wake up! He's right behind you! Why can't I divert-

He struggled against immobility until finally something reconnected, and his crimson optics flared open. Blue and red shapes swam in his vision, slowly coalescing into the familiar face of...

"Br-kdn-" He choked out, through a vocal processor that hadn't fully rebooted.

Are we safe? He doesn't look scared. Am I hallucinating?

Knockout reached a servo up haltingly towards Breakdown's helm, relief flooding his spark when he made contact.

"Hey ha-dsm, wh-at s going on?"

Breakdown leaned over the med berth, his first real grin since arriving at the autobot base splashed across his ruddy face. “Not much, hot wheels. How you feelin’?” He cupped Knockout’s servo with his own, unable to stop the relieved laugh that bubbled up from deep in his chest. The only thing stopping him from leaning down and kiss the racer silly was his audience of one and the fact that he was afraid of hurting the still recuperating mech. 

"We m-de it." Knockout whispered in disbelief before registering a few moments later that he'd been asked a question. "I feel...stiff. What happened?"

Their audience quietly grew as Arcee approached, her attention drawn by the laughter and soft voices. She was followed soon after by Bee, then Bulkhead, and finally Optimus, giving Breakdown even more reason to not give away too much about the depth of his relationship with Knockout.

 

~

 

Optimus watched the pair silently; the change in Breakdown's demeanor was remarkable, and if there had been any doubt in his processor before about their motivations for deserting, it was resolved now.

"We will leave you to recuperate, but it is good to see you online, Knockout." He said gently.

Knockout turned his helm a little quicker than he should have at the sound of a relatively unfamiliar voice, wincing slightly with the resulting pain throbbing just behind his optics. The Prime himself was standing there, with his team by his side, looking strangely at ease with the situation. "I- thank you. I assume you responded to our distress call, so...thank you." He dropped his servo from Breakdown's helm, but only to pull the fighter's servo down with it and lace their digits together against the birth.

Ratchet gave a nod of acknowledgement, before turning to their...audience. “I’m sure my patient appreciates the welcoming committee, but I have a lot of things to discuss with him about his recovery, so Optimus if you please…” He gestured, waiting until their leader herded the others away to discuss things with Knockout. 

 

\----

“If you weren’t already aware, you took a plasma cannon shot to the back, slightly to the left. It barely missed your spark, but it did take out several supporting structures and important energon mainlines. You’ve been in stasis for little over a deca-cycle while I repaired vital components. Your body is still going to be completing its own minor repairs, so you will need to take it easy for a while and make sure you keep your energon levels up.” He huffed a sigh through his vents. “And, knowing the amount of value you place on your own self image, you will need a repaint at some point.” 

As Knockout listened to the Autobot medic's explanation, it sank in for him how close he'd come to being instantly offlined. And more than that, how he'd put Breakdown in danger - exactly the same kind of danger he'd been trying to get him away from. It had all turned out, but he still felt the need to talk to him about it later, to apologize.

And then Ratchet got to the part about a repaint. Knockout stiffened and steadfastly refused to look down.

"Breaks. I don't want to look. How bad is it?"

Breakdown barely managed to bite back a laugh. “You have a few patches of fresh metal where you got shot, front and back. I don’t think it’s that bad, but by your standards… let’s just say you’re not gonna like it.” 

Ratchet rolled his optics, “Paint job aside. Refrain from shifting forms until I give you the all-clear. I plan on giving you routine check ups during this phase of your recovery. But you can stand up and move about as you please. Breakdown has taken the time while you were in stasis to learn about the do’s and dont’s of our base, so I’m sure he’ll be more than happy to educate you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have more important things to attend to now that you’re awake and ambulatory.” The old medic explained before turning and heading towards the hall that led to everyone’s private quarters. 

Knockout wanted to dramatically stand up and embrace Breakdown now that they were alone (one doesn't almost die every cycle!), but he resolved not to be the worst patient on the planet, and so Knockout tested the responses to his limbs first before carefully swinging his legs over the side of the medberth. Of course in doing so he caught sight of the large metal patches Ratchet had installed and.. well, it wasn't absolutely hideous. The doctor was good at his work, and with some paint it would be almost as good as if he'd done it himself.

Knockout held onto Breakdown's arm to steady himself as he stepped down, happy to note that the initial stiffness was quickly fading.

And only then did he reach out to pull Breakdown towards him for a relieved kiss.

Damn it felt good to hold the racer in his arms again and feel those smooth lips on his own. Breakdown bent slightly to scoop the smaller mech up and spin him once. 

“Man, you really are a sap, BD!” 

Breakdown twitched and jerked away from Knockout to turn and glance at Miko who had perched herself on the banister of their platform to watch. He should have known she'd have zero respect for privacy… 

“Tough outside and soft squishy inside! I should have known when you asked if the dog died at the end of that movie we watched last week!” She taunted and he ex-vented a grumble.   
“At least I didn't _cry_ like someone else I know.” He retorted, both arms still around Knockout's waist. 

“Liar! I did not cry!”

“Did too. I watched you.” 

“Nuh uh! Don't you try to make me look bad in front of your boyfriend!”

Knockout decided to interrupt their nonsensical argument, tapping a digit against the fighter's arm to get his attention.

"Breaks. I have a few questions." He said, with barely restrained glee. "One, do you cry at human entertainment? Two, do all of your new friends have cute nicknames for you? And three, have you been introducing me as your boyfriend?"

“To answer that all in order: no, unfortunately, and no.” Breakdown replied in order, still scowling at Miko. 

“He didn’t have to say anything. You two are all over each other and Doc Knock’s only been up for like… ten minutes!” Miko pointed out, idly pulling out her phone and blatantly snapping a photo of the lovebirds. “And besides, this big blue softie’s been checking up on you every single day since you’ve been out. I thought Ratchet was going to stab him a couple times.”

“Aaaaand conversation over. C’mon, lemme show you where our room is.” Breakdown released Knockout, but kept a hand on his waist as he guided him away from the loudmouth human still calling taunting things at them. To which Breakdown responded by raising a servo to flip her the bird(she had educated him on what it was called and exactly what it meant shortly after he’d started talking to the humans.)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for such a delay guys... Life's been a bitch and a half, lemme tell ya. But all your comments and kudos keeps me 'n Miyoko truckin!
> 
> This was my first time writing anything like this, so forgive me if it's a little different. Hope you guys like it!!
> 
> With love, Punk and Miyoko

“You’ll get used to them… I didn’t think I would, but eh. They’re pretty tolerable...most of the time…”

In all honesty, the fact that not only had Breakdown survived and gotten them here, but he'd made friends, been accepted, warmed something in Knockout. It was a relief, to say the least, to see that he hadn't completely ruined the fighter's life with his stunt.

Didn't mean he wasn't going to tease him whenever possible. "Checked up on me every day, did you?" He said slyly, as they made their way through Omega One. "Oh, that's right, you're a medical assistant. A very conscientious and hard-working assistant."

When they reached their room, a tiny thing but perhaps the Autobot base was smaller than he'd guessed, Knockout took a moment to study it (didn't take long) and then, carefully in deference to the doctor's orders, leaned against the door frame with a wide grin. "Our room, is it? Are you sure you wouldn't like some privacy? I'd hate to impose."

It hadn't been as long for him as it had been for Breakdown, stasis was strange like that, but somehow it seemed like he hadn't seen him in ages, and, well. It did occur to him that he was falling back into patterns of flirting instead of actually taking.

Even with one optic, Breakdown was still more than capable of a pointed stare. “Get your shiny red aft in here and close the door.” He tone low and quiet, folding his heavy arms in front of his chest and leaning a hip against his makeshift sleeping berth. His expression was still warm and his tone teasing, but there was a faintly serious undertone. He had spent one too many joors alone in this room, thinking, worrying, and everything in between. But now that Knockout was back and this close to a full recovery, he planned on taking full advantage of their privacy in this room while he had it. 

After such a long life, it wasn't every day that Knockout learned something new about himself. Thus, the full-chassis shiver that went through him from Breakdown's order was a pleasant surprise. He stepped fully inside, engaging the door lock.

"Something you can't tell me in front of the others, Breaks?" he teased, as he made the very short journey across the tiny space to stand as close as he could to Breakdown without touching him. He could feel the warmth radiating off of blue plates, and the serious expression on the other mech's face quelled the next silly thing that was likely to come out of his mouth.

Instead, he said softly, "That was a close one, huh?'

Large servos were on him in the blink of an optic. Knockout found himself gently but firmly being turned and pushed back against the berth, a heavy arm on either side of him, holding him there.

"Too close..." was Breakdown's quiet, rumbling reply. 

One servo left the corner of the berth and thick digits touched along the racer's trim waist before traveling upward, stroking along seams between armor plates and mapping out those exotic curves and graceful lines. His optic never left Knockout's, a whirlwind of emotion and things unsaid reflecting in the glowing golden depths. 

"...'m never letting you out of my sight again..." he mumbled before his helm dipped and his lips melded against Knockout's, his servo traveling around to press against the small of the red mech's back.

_We made it…_

Knockout instinctively arched against the larger mech, with a sharp in-vent as heavy servos left trails of warmth over his frame. 

"Good-" he managed to whisper before whatever else he was going to say was muffled by a searing kiss. He dragged his servos up to dip into the spaces between Breakdown's helm and shoulders, scraping lightly at the delicate cables there.

He broke the kiss, only to place smaller ones on his helm, neck, optic patch, everywhere he could reach without moving too far from Break's tight grasp.

Breakdown stilled, tolerating the soft kisses across his face and returning them when possible. But those talons dancing across sensitive cables and dipping deeper to lightly pluck at his wiring was making the corners of his processor buzz with pleasant static.

He bit back a groan, cooling fans starting to kick in. The servo at Knockout's back slipped upward between those gold spoked wheels, the other servo leaving the berth to travel upwards along the racer's waist to find a seam in that light, lean plating, digging his digits into it and curling them. 

He dipped his helm lower, leaving a trail of kisses along the cabling of Knockout's neck and traveled lower until he could plant an affectionate kiss right over the top of the paneling where he knew the red mech's spark pulsed beneath

"F-frag, ah! Breaks..." Knockout's optics shuttered closed, those thick digits, ever so purposeful in their assault sending a wave of pleasure that bounced through his frame, and he had to steady himself against the berth with one servo to keep from buckling.

And as Breakdown kissed towards his spark, he could feel it pulsing, reaching out for its companion in the handsome blue mech who was so close. Almost before the thought made its way fully through his processor, his chest plates were sliding apart, bathing them in a soft light.

Breakdown’s servos froze and what free space remained of his fuzzy processor honed in on that soft blue light of the racer’s spark. Everything the red mech was, every memory, every laugh, every shout, every emotion...bared before him. 

He opened his mouth to say something...anything. But no words, english or cybertronian seemed adequate. So he abandoned his words and the armor seams he was buried digit deep in and reached up, hesitantly touching his digits along the edges of the parted paneling. He wanted to get closer, but the way they were angled wouldn’t allow it. Gently removing his arm from Knockout’s grasp, he used one servo to brace his weight on the berth and the other to lift and guide the racer onto his back on the berth. 

 

Primus what a view…. He couldn’t help but pause to admire the gorgeous mech sprawled across the berth beneath him, chest plates retracted. It was erotic, if not downright sinful, and he wanted nothing more than to overload the ex-con medic so hard he would feel the residual static for days afterwards. Bracing his weight on one arm, he brought his servo up to brush the joints of his digits across the protective crystal of Knockout’s spark. 

Knockout hissed, helm snapping backwards against the berth as Breakdown just barely caressed his spark casing. When he did it a second time, Knockout's optics flared bright with a surge of electricity that shot along his chassis. Quickly, before it could completely dissipate, he palmed the sensitive seam at the side edge of Breakdown's hip plates, grinning wickedly as the remaining shock crackled along the fighter's torso. His action earned a quiet little grunt of pleasure and a definite shudder, feeling the charge dance along the blue mech’s heavy struts.

Breakdown wasn't vocal, but the doctor could tell from the occasional stutter of his fans, from the heat rolling off of him in waves, from the look in his optic, wide with almost reverent admiration… 

Knockout was filled with an immense sense of pride from being the one to cause such a look in the mech who'd given up everything, just because he asked him to.

He reached up and curled his talons around the top of Breakdown's chest plate, pulling gently, trying not to fly right off of the berth from that soft pressure still on his spark. "Come on, its- ahh- its not fa-ir," he struggled to say, "I want to see- I need-"

“..shhhhh…” Breakdown removed his servo from Knockout’s chest to reach up and cup the servo currently tugging at his chestplates, a subtle smile on his ruddy face. He interlocked his digits with Knockout’s, pulling it gently away from himself and pushing it up to pin it against the berth above the racer’s helm. 

Not yet…

He wanted to be able to solely focus on pleasuring the racer without his own pleasure interfering. He could deal with his own building charge later, or if Knockout still wanted to lend a helping servo after his own overload, he’d be welcome to. 

Since he had one pinned, he decided to take the other one and gently pin both the racer’s servos up above his helm with one heavy servo, leaving the other one free to continue his reverent ministrations, tracing around the outer ring of Knockout’s spark chamber, his audials listening intently for the sensual sounds of assent. 

In frustration at being denied access, a little growl tore itself from Knockout's engine and vocoder, but it stuttered silent as his servos were pinned above his helm. Optics wide, lips parted, he could feel a flush suffuse his face. This was surprising too, he managed to think, through the haze of pleasure building from that damned gentle servo. Though-

He'd trusted Breakdown not to turn him in when he suggested running away. He'd trusted him to protect them to the best of his ability if something went wrong. And he trusted him now; it wasn't even a question. There was no chance he could escape the heavy servo clasping his, no chance of winning against Breakdown's strength if he decided to use it against him, and yet, Knockout knew that with a single word, a single look, the fighter would stop whatever it was he was doing to make sure he was okay.

He met Breakdown's gaze, a quiet warmth, that had nothing to do with their activities, pooling in his optics, and with a gasp and a near inaudible click, Knockout's spark chamber opened.

Once again, Breakdown wished he could find the words to describe the things he felt and a way to describe the racer in a way he hadn't been told a million times already. But he found none. The only thing he could think to do to get Knockout to understand was to show him through his actions. 

Blunt tipped digits dipped gently into the hotly pulsating corona of the racer's spark. Breakdown could feel the heat and charge along the surface of his digits as he stroked them along the outer edges of the corona. Vague sensations and emotions not his own, nearly drowned in static but clear enough to feel buzzed through his processor and caused his own ex-vents to stutter. 

Even with just a taste of Knockout's energy, his processor filled with fantasies of touching his own spark to the other, feeling the energy crackle and pop between them as they worked each other up to a glorious overload. His spark thrummed against its crystalloid casing in response to the vivid fantasizing, but he pushed the thoughts aside, vowing to deal with his own needs later. His optic's focus switched between studying Knockout's expression and watching his own ministrations on the racer’s spark. 

Knockout arched off of the berth with a groan, arms pulling futily at their restraint as his spark compelled him to get as close as he could to the mech who was doing such wonderful things with nothing more a servo. When Knockout spoke, his voice cracked with static, "Don't st-" A slow swipe of Breakdown's digit, and his voice cut out completely, coming back online only through immense effort.

For all that the teasing pleasure was building, however, it wasn't enough. Knockout wanted to see the unshakable mech come apart in his arms, wanted to know if Breakdown was loud when he overloaded, or if he would simply still as energy shot through his over-taxed systems.

"Breaks..." he managed, the name trailing off into a whine, "I can't- not without you." 

"Please!"

Sometimes Breakdown swore that Knockout knew the exact tone to use to get him to do anything. Because that right there was the ticket. 

“...okay…” He uttered quietly, a rich blue flush flaring across his ruddy face. He slowly withdrew his servo from Knockout's chest as his focus turned to retracting his own chestplates. Warning inquiries popped up in his HUD and he couldn’t stop the split second flashback to the last time his chestplates had been opened. Eugh… He suppressed a shudder and thrust those thoughts from his processor as his own plates folded and slid back with soft metallic clicks. 

Knockout was glad for the momentary break in contact with his spark; he wanted to be able to focus enough to watch carefully as Breakdown's plates retracted. And Primus he was glad he did. He'd known that Breakdown's spark would be gorgeous, just like the mech that housed it, bright and pulsing strongly, the wisps of the corona already reaching out. And the look on the fighter's face, flushed with nervousness and concentration, oh, this was going to be wonderful!

Breakdown’s spark was pulsing heavily against its simple protective crystal and his cooling fans were humming noisily in response to the mixture of arousal and nerves he felt. Perhaps he should have mentioned to Knockout before all of this that he'd never really...touched sparks with another mech before..? He sucked cool air down into his intakes and decided to just take the plunge, retracting his protective covering with a final little clink. His desire to please and his want for the other's spark outweighed any hesitancy he might have had from his nerves as he gently bowed downward to press his prominent chest lightly to Knockout's. 

Both sparks flared in response to the sudden proximity of the other, tendrils of outer corona drifting and becoming captured between them, initiating the connection. 

_The satisfaction of completing a successful surgery. The smug sense of pride, speeding past human street racers like they were in reverse to cross the finish line first. The wonderful thrill of watching the lines on the empty two lane road become a blur under that screaming v12._

Cherished emotions and memories with a fuzzy undercurrent of electrical discharge coursed through his processor and down his support struts, dragging a strangled groan from his throat. The feeling and sensations were heady and exhilarating, intensified by the subtle shift of their bodies against each other. He could already feel his charge building, what little air remained between them thick with energy and the scent of ozone. 

Next time, Knockout vowed, he'd be the one in control. He'd back Breakdown up against a wall and show him all of the things he could do to a mech's spark.

_Laughing uproariously with the Vehicons. The pride at a new, stronger form and all of its abilities. Finding a peaceful place to sit, be alone for a while, no crowds to worry about._

Praise tumbled from Knockout's vocoder, "You're beautiful- ahn!- Maker, you're perfect-" and he absorbed every sound Breakdown made in return, storing them in his memory banks.

Knockout pushed his chest upwards, tilting as much as he could to push their sparks even closer together, and they responded beautifully, the charge between them rolling back and forth, increasing with every pulse, every movement. He could distantly feel his frame practically vibrating, nowhere to put the energy that was building in his systems.

Optics blown wide, ex-venting roughly, he caught Breakdown's gaze. "Overload for- for me, sweetspark-"

Breakdown was already close...so close… His cooling fans whined noisily, having to work overtime as he teetered on the edge of an overload. His processor had given up on trying to focus on anything except for the racer...no. **His** racer's breathy praises and the beautiful arch of his body as he arched up against Breakdown's restraint

He pressed just a little closer, single golden optic focused intensely on rich crimson ones. Electricity crackled and snapped between them and he in-vented a sharp gasp. “...ngh..! Knockout...!” His voice was low and thick with static as his entire mass went rigid. Energy buzzed and popped through the connection, pulling the pair into a glorious feedback loop of energy and pleasure that they would be feeling for joors afterwards. 

In his post-overload haze he shakily remembered to release Knockout's servos from his grip as he sidled up further onto the berth to tiredly flop down beside the other, his cooling fans still humming and his plates still ticking with slowly dissipating heat. He vaguely noticed the scrape of red paint against his blue paneling. 

Yeah… that wasn't going unnoticed and he didn’t exactly think to bring the rotary buffer with him when they left. Too bad he didn't have the processing power to care.

Knockout stretched as he regained control of his servos, shaking them out as residual energy crackled deliciously along his frame and then dissipated. He waited until Breakdown had settled down next to him before rolling on to his side and propping himself up on one arm. Careful not to get too close to his sensitive spark, now pulsing languidly, he traced a digit along the bit of red paint against blue plates.

"Oh," he said with a grin, "That’s a good look on you." Glancing down, Knockout was pleased to see a matching trace of deep blue on his own chest. He curled cat-like against Breakdown's side, tangling their legs together.

It occurred to Knockout, as he lay there drawing idle shapes against Breakdown's plates, that he'd never known spark contact to be so...smooth before. It was- were they- well, it had been a while, probably for both of them after all, and they had a lot of pent up energy after almost getting offlined.

The sound of Breakdown's slowing fans lulled him into relaxation, which was absolutely the only reason why one of his sappier thoughts managed to bubble out of his vocoder before he realized.

"You're beautiful."

“Mh…who’s the sap now, hm..?” Breakdown smirked, lazily sliding his chestplates closed. His processor was still hazy and several of his unimportant, secondary systems were still offline, waiting to reboot. But damn if he didn’t feel like a million credits. He slipped an arm around Knockout and gave a squeeze, as a thought crossed his processor.

“If our new crew didn’t know before, they know now.”

Somehow, this thought didn’t scare him as much as it did when he’d first arrived at Omega One and wasn’t anywhere close to the fear he’d felt under Megatron’s rule. Of course they would be expected to keep their relationship professional here, but there would be no retribution for their relationship existing in the first place, like it would have on the Nemesis. It felt good to not have to hide anymore.

"Well, good," Knockout laughed, "Saves us the trouble of explaining."

Reaching for the arm wrapped around him, he laced their digits together and rested their tangled servos against his waist, a light ex-vent escaping him and tickling Breakdown's plating.

"Though, speaking of our new crew… What have they had you doing around here anyway? And what will they have me doing?"

Not that he was going to complain almost no matter what his duties ended up being. He was just glad they'd both survived and that his plan had worked! He punctuated his currently excellent mood with casual little kisses against Break's side.

"Uh. Well... they had me under strict watch at first. Wanted to make sure I wasn’t tryna trick anyone. Mostly busywork until they trust me enough to go out. They seem like they need a lot of help when it comes to finding and refining energon. So you'll probably be helping Ratchet with medical things and working on something they're calling Synth En. I don’t really know. They didn't seem keen on letting me into that conversation yet. They're trusting me more though 'n they should trust you more now that I've been here a little while. I'm allowed to go more places inside the base now and the humans like me....I think." He explained what he figured Knockout should know. Anything else he figured the racer would pick up on the fly. 

"They'll all probably mean mug you a little in the beginning. But if you can ignore that, they get over it and warm up eventually. Then they're not so bad. Little weird, but not as weird as some of the folks we had runnin' around back on the Nemesis." Breakdown gave an amused huff through his vents. Not much could top ol' Scream in the weirdness category.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all! Punk and Miyoko back with another chapter and this one is a doozy! A lot goes down in this chapter! I hope y'all enjoy it!! Everyone's comments and kudos give us life. Thank you all, every single one of you, for all the love. <3<3<3
> 
> ((Also, there's some Ratchet/Wheeljack in this chapter, so fair warning!))
> 
> With love, 
> 
> Punk and Miyoko

In the six or so deca-cycles they’d been there now, they slowly found their place among the autobot ranks. Though, it took the autobots a bit longer to warm up to Knockout, and Breakdown couldn't blame them. While he'd grown to love and tolerate the racer for who he was, he understood that not everyone could appreciate the various quirks of his personality. 

Knockout tended to butt helms with Ratchet the most, as they both had rather coarse personalities, and on top of that, were forced to share a workspace now that Knockout was well enough to begin helping out. Even then, Optimus was able to settle most of their squabbles without too much trouble and even Breakdown found himself mildly surprised as how well Knockout responded to the Prime's authority. 

By that point, the team had returned Breakdown’s weapons and let him out on missions, starting off on ones where he was directly under Optimus's command. Not that he cared. It felt good to get out and have a real job to do again. He just hoped with all his spark that he wouldn't be running into any vehicons he knew personally. He'd been up front and honest with Optimus the first day they'd gone out. 

Both mechs sat parked in alt form, in an empty lot next to a human military outpost, waiting for Fowler to clear out the human activity so they could step in and clear out the energon deposits the humans had happened upon. Breakdown was quiet, not stupid. He knew a mission like this would usually be beneath the Prime and would have been delegated to a ground team. But this was a test. A simple, quiet mission to the middle of nowhere. 

“You seem to be in much higher spirits now that Knockout had pulled through and is once again back on his pedes.” Optimus broke the silence as they idly watched the humans load up and start to evacuate the premises. 

“Uh...yeah. I was just worried ‘bout him.” Breakdown replied quietly. 

“You form strong bonds with those close to you. It's an admirable quality, Breakdown. However, I fear you may have more attachments with other decepticons that have yet to be tested. While I hate to ask this of you or any of my other comrades, our constant war with the decepticons demands it. If it comes down to a battle between yourself and another decepticon you once considered close, will you be able to fire?”

Damn. Always right on the money. Most days he appreciated that about Optimus, but not right now he didn’t. 

“You know boss… I don't really know. Knockout was the only mech over there that I really cared about enough to do something like, well… This. And I don't plan on going back. Ever. But… the Vehicons. They… I just… they were my friends. They came to me to talk when they needed it and I went to them. But now that things've changed...I don't really know what's gonna happen now.” 

“You have been keen to disprove any of our doubts about your loyalty, and rest assured, I acknowledge your efforts and I do not doubt your loyalties any more than I must. But I have to know if you think you are capable of setting aside old bonds to be able to fight efficiently when your current team needs it.”

The blue truck was silent for a while, seeming to carefully mull over his dilemma. 

“I’m not gonna like it, but I’ll do what I have to do to get the job done…” He finally mumbled, feeling his spark sink down through his tires and below the hot asphalt beneath him. He could only hope that any vehicon he happened across would forgive him. 

“I am sorry to ask this of you. But it is necessary. I hope you understand.”

“Yeah. It sucks, but I get it.”

“Thank you. You and Knockout have only been here a short while, but you both have done a lot for your new team and every single one of us appreciates it.” 

“Oh, uh….thanks…?”

((*BZZT* Fowler here! You’re all clear, Prime. Do your thing.))

“I believe that is our cue. Follow me.” Optimus’ engine roared back to life and was echoed by Breakdown starting his own to follow suit. 

\-----

(Back at base)

“Knockout!! Where did you put my tig welder?? I need it!!” Ratchet complained loudly, a sour look on his face as he pestered the racer. “I told you I have a system! You can’t just put things aside all willy nilly like this!”

Knockout scoffed lightly, looking up from his project, an almost insultingly simple repair he'd been handed only a joor earlier.  
"You call this a system, old-timer?"  
He gestured exaggeratedly at the Autobot's 'lab', optics narrowed in disbelief. "There's no telling where you laid the pitted thing."

There was a passing thought, that sounded suspiciously like Breakdown, that said, 'You could be nicer, ya know.' But first of all, no. Second of all, they'd definitely think something was up if Knockout started being polite and compliant all of a sudden. No, much better to build up this repartee, permanently grumpy old medic to occasionally grumpy handsome medic.

A loud thump interrupted his musing; the good doctor was glaring at him pretty directly.  
"What? I didn't take it!"

“You had it last! You were using it for the-” Ratchet’s accusation was cut short by the loud rev of a very familiar Lancia cruising in through the entry tunnel.

The white, red and green Stratos pulled up to a halt in the middle of the base before shifting into the familiar shape of Wheeljack. 

For just a moment, he wore his familiar, cocky little smirk...but then blue optics fell on the latest...addition to the team. His smile vanished about as fast as he drew his blaster, aiming it right for Knockout’s chest. 

“Primus..!! Wheeljack no! Wait!” Ratchet stepped forward and put his servos up, motioning for the wrecker to stop. 

“Give me one good reason, doc. You’ve got three seconds.”

“He’s changed sides..!”

“Yeah I don’t believe that. One…”

“For the love of- Wheeljack! Stop this!!”

“Still waitin’ on that reason. Two…”

“Would you just listen..!!”

“Three.”

The echo of the groundbridge opening halted all three mechs in their tracks. Optimus and Breakdown, both in alt-mode pulled in through the bridge, Optimus pulling his trailer and Breakdown following behind with his own load. 

Optimus was quick to shift, leaving his trailer where it sat and with a few long strides he stepped into the middle of the three. 

“Wheeljack. Holster your weapon.”

“No. Not while there’s ‘con scum in here.”

“They are here because I have allowed it.” 

“They? What the frag, Prime. There’s more than-.... You’ve got to be kidding me. You let that afthole in?” Wheeljack glanced back at where Breakdown had shifted, single yellow optic narrowed and staring down the wrecker's icy stare. Had the Prime not stepped in, he would have been halfway to flattening that wrecker by now. 

“They sought refuge and I have granted it. In return they have defected from the Decepticons.”

“And I’m tellin’ you I ain’t buyin’ it.”

“You do not have a choice in this. Both Knockout and Breakdown have earned the right to stay here. **Lower. Your. Weapon.** ” It was an order and it was not to be questioned. Wheeljack didn’t answer and for several long nano-kliks his weapon still remained trained on Knockout…. But with a low growl, he lowered his blaster. 

“They don’t belong here. When this little ‘con and ‘bot party of yours gets blown to scrap, don’t come cryin’ to me. I’m out.” He turned and glanced back at them all, disgust in his optics, before shifting and tearing off down the entry tunnel, the angry snarl of his engine echoing loudly. 

Breakdown turned and stared at Knockout, studying him from across the room. He still had to help Optimus unload the unrefined energon still, but he still wanted to make sure his racer was alright. 

"Well wasn’t that just lovely." Knockout mumbled, too low for anyone to hear, grip on the little medical soldering gun easing, (Wouldn't that have been a quick duel!) as the tension in the room dropped. He had known that it would take time to win the bots over, and they were doing fairly well in that arena, but he hadn't really counted on random anti-con mercenaries showing up to put in their two credits. He glanced at Breakdown and gave a little quirked smile before turning to look up at Optimus.

"You know, your timing is legendary amongst the cons, and that just settled it." and before Optimus could say anything about "luck" or "the matrix, blah blah", he added, "Thank you." How many times had he thanked the Prime recently? A lot. Ridiculous.

"You are welcome." their new leader replied simply, before turning to complete his task, with a nod to Breakdown.

Knockout took a moment to enjoy watching Breakdown work before rounding on the bot medic with a wide grin.  
"Who knew!" He exclaimed, "That in you, dear doctor, I would find a stalwart defender!" With a flourish, he pulled the tig welder from a shelf where he had indeed stashed it earlier.

Ratchet's face flushed dark with unbridled fury and a slew of both English and cybertronian cusses filled the air, “I KNEW YOU HAD IT, YOU-!!!” 

Breakdown stifled a laugh, turning back to the load of energon crystals he'd helped haul in. Leave it up to his troublemaker to rile up the old medic that badly after such a serious situation. 

Any residual bickering between the two medics was effectively cut off three engines came roaring down the tunnel, loudly signaling that the humans had arrived with their three chauffeurs. Breakdown was quick to give up on any conversation, knowing there’d be no time to talk now. 

The three bots were quick to shift once the humans had made it up to their little hangout roost. “Hey! Did you guys hear from Jackie? We just passed him outside the tunnel. He seemed on his way out in a real hurry.” Bulkhead looked a bit concerned as he glanced back at the mouth of the tunnel they’d entered from. 

Optimus turned to reply to Bulkhead, but Breakdown didn’t catch his reply, as his attention was pulled elsewhere. 

“Yo BD!!” Miko stood on the railing and waved her arms. 

“What.” He turned and rested a servo lightly against the railing.

“When you gonna give me a ride, huh? You've been here for like...six months now? C'mon dude!” 

“Why me? Go bug Bulkhead for a ride.”

“I mean, I know he's stronger and faster than you but I guess I just wanted to see by how much!” She smiled sweetly

He frowned, optic narrowing at her. “Nice try. It's not gonna work. Besides. He'd probably blow a gasket if I took you anywhere. So….no.”

She huffed loudly and folded her arms. “Killjoy.”

“Yup.” He gave a nod and moved to turn away, but paused, a funny little smirk crossing his face. “On top of that I'd hate to be the one to ruin your fun with your current ride knowing how much more torque and horsepower I've got.” 

“You're full of scrap! We'll race you anytime, anywhere!!” She shouted as he turned back to Optimus and the conversation between him and Bulkhead. 

“That sounds like him… I knew he wouldn't like it. But I didn't think he'd take it this hard…” Bulkhead sighed through his vents and reached up to scratch the back of his helm. 

“Do not blame yourself for your comrade's actions, Bulkhead. It is not your responsibility to act as a buffer between Wheeljack and things he may find difficult to accept. His actions were his own. The only thing you can do now is be there for him if and when he decides to reach out.” Optimus rested a heavy servo against Bulk's left pauldron. 

“Yeah, okay…”

\----

The rest of the solar-cycle was uneventful with half the team remaining to help with the energon and the other half leaving with Optimus to respond to a report on decepticon activity. The humans hung around and entertained themselves with movies and videogames and bothering the remaining mechs on base, Arcee, Ratchet, Knockout, and Breakdown. 

As they processed the collected energon, Knockout's thoughts went again and again to an incomplete project back on Nemesis, one that would make their current job significantly easier. There was no getting it of course, but he had most of the schematics saved. But who to approach about it...

Definitely not Ratchet; even without their little incident, the medic didn't trust him, not quite yet. Maybe Arcee? They hadn't spoken much, but neither had she shown any particular hostility, and the skilled fighter had the Prime's ear.

Jack had taken a break from losing to the other two at whatever human game they were playing, and was leaning over the railing to tell Arcee a joke, or so Knockout assumed from the way her normally stoic face brightened. As he drew near, they quieted.

"Sooooo," he began, "Exciting work, this."

The motorcycle and her partner shared a look, and she crossed her arms. "Figures you're not used to manual labor." She said, though not without a tiny mote of teasing. Maybe. It was something at least.

"Yes, yes, make fun of the mech designed for detail work. Look," Knockout paused, running through a dozen sentence variations in his processor, and there was not one that didn't sound a little like the stereotypical villain trying to trick his "new friends."  
"Look, I know you all hate this as much as I do, and besides that, at this rate it will take a thousand years for you to get the amount of energon that Megatron has now."

Scoffing lightly, Jack narrowed his eyes. "Your point? Or are you just feeling nostalgic?"

Knockout ex-vented in his general direction. "My point is, bitlet, that we were working on something that would greatly increase the efficiency of energon processing."

At this point, the conversation had attracted the attention of the other two humans, and he willed himself not to react when Miko stretched her arm out to thump him on the closest panel she could reach. "What?" she demanded, "You volunteering to go up and get it?"

Allspark forbid. "No. Absolutely not. I know very well how that would turn out." he replied with a shudder. "But I think I could recreate it, if I had... access to more systems and equipment, and some other assorted supplies."

“You know, we do have a master engineer and fabricator among our ranks. I’d say you could try and convince him to lend some tools and a helping servo, but after what happened, I doubt he’d be willing to work with you in any capacity, even knowing the benefits.” Arcee pointed out, hefting a section of crystal roughly the size of her torso.

“Who, Ratchet?” Jack turned and raised an eyebrow at her. 

“No. While Ratchet can do both those things, he’s first and foremost a medic. On top of that, I doubt he’d have time to help with something like that. I was actually referring to Wheeljack.”

“What’s all this about Wheeljack?” Ratchet interrupted, returning from providing maintenance the energon refiner to help with the last of the crystals, Breakdown following behind him to grab another load. 

Knockout threw his arms in the air with a huff. "It's not as if I actually did anything, except stand there and get threatened." He glanced around for confirmation. "Right?"

“Ah...yes. About that. When and if Wheeljack comes back, I do plan on talking to him.” Ratchet huffed, prominent brow ridges dipping even lower over his optics. 

Breakdown stepped past Ratchet and Knockout, lightly bumping pauldrons with Knockout as he passed in an undetectable show of affection. He relieved Arcee of her burden and scooped up the remaining crystal sections all in one last load, silently hauling it off. 

The light touch from Breakdown went a long way towards making Knockout feel more grounded; it always did, but he was careful not to react outwardly, knowing how the larger mech felt about public displays. Instead, he let his field project affection for just a moment as Breakdown passed by.

“He should come around. I understand where he’s coming from. We’ve all been so invested in this war for so long. It’s hard to be expected to trust mechs you’ve faced on the battlefield before.” Arcee ex-vented a sigh, her pauldrons sagging slightly, as if the eons of war were physically weighing down on her. Jack reached a hand up to rest reassuringly on her knee armor. “But we don’t have the luxury of questioning things like this more than we have to. You and Breakdown are doing everything you can to prove yourselves. It’s not your fault Wheeljack hasn’t been around to see it.” She added. 

As Arcee spoke, even Miko quieted from her typical stream of comments, and watched the femme carefully. 

"Well," Miko said, "The cons are running out of officers, so maybe the war will be over soon!"

“Not likely. The war has been going on far too long to end so neatly...” Ratchet replied curtly, gathering his data pads and heading off without another word to bury himself in the mechanics of the ground bridge for maintenance, his usual go-to when he had things on his mind. 

While he understood the core reasoning behind the wrecker’s actions, he still found himself bothered by the events of that day. He wanted to talk to Wheeljack, but would have to wait until the majority of base had gone to recharge to try and contact him. Even then, he wasn’t sure if he’d get a reply with as angry as the lone wrecker had been. Regardless, he had to try. 

Breakdown raised a brow ridge and quietly watched the Autobot medic stalk off. Huh. He was almost worse than Knockout when he was bothered by something. At least he hadn’t started throwing things, though he chalked that up to the fact that resources were far more precious on this side of things. 

 

\----

Though the Autobots didn’t need recharge as often as humans did every Earth solar cycle, it was easier to fall into a rhythm that coincided with the Earth rotations. Optimus returned with his team just before Ratchet bridged the humans out to their respective residences. The humans exchanged brief tired greetings with the team before each of them disappeared through the ground bridge in turn. 

With the humans taken care of, Optimus ordered Bumblebee and Bulkhead to refuel and catch a little recharge before they had to take their charges to school tomorrow. Arcee, having not been on patrol, had already left with Jack, stating that she needed a night outside of the silo.

Knockout and Breakdown, still on close watch, had simply decided to use the quiet time to recharge a bit as well. 

Which left Ratchet up and about as Optimus went out on another patrol. 

To conserve power, most of the lights in the silo were dimmed or shut down, leaving only the halls dimly illuminated and Ratchet’s workspace lit up as he made himself busy, the only sounds echoing softly through the silo the faint tink of metal on metal and his quiet mutterings to himself.

The peace and quiet was nice. It didn’t happen very often, and he made sure to enjoy every moment he got. 

Unfortunately, this moment of peace and quiet didn’t last nearly as long as he’d hoped as he was roused from his thoughts by the quiet beeping of a proximity sensor going off. With a grumble, he set aside his welder and approached the main computer to access their security systems and see exactly who might be knocking at their door, so to speak. 

With a few clicks, he was able to pull up the slightly staticky live feed of a security camera. Stupid human technology. But even with the faint static interference, the silhouette of the intruder was unmistakable. His brow ridges dipped in disapproval as he accessed his personal comms. 

Even through the comm, his tone was flat and irritated.

Ratchet’s only answer was the empty buzz of a closed comm line and the glow of headlights coming through the tunnel. 

The Lancia pulled in through the tunnels and killed his headlights before transforming and glancing around, seeming to be confirming Ratchet’s claim that everyone else was either in recharge or out. 

“Weird seein’ this place so quiet.” Wheeljack hummed to himself

“You don’t exactly hang around this place long enough to ‘see’ much of anything. Which raises the question; what are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be off finding some trouble to throw yourself into?” Ratchet pointed out sourly, walking past him to return to his workbench and the project he was working on before. 

“Ran out of trouble. Figured there might be some here to get into.” Wheeljack sauntered over to lean against the workbench. 

Ratchet’s servo gripped whatever small project he held hard enough for something to crack. “No. You have already brought enough trouble this solar-cycle. We’re here, trying to make do with the resources we’re given. I refuse to let you throw a wrench into that. Literally or figuratively.”

Wheeljack’s passive, slightly amused expression fell into something a bit darker. “You do what you’re gonna do. Not like I get a say in it anyway.”

“I’m not asking you to like it. Refusing to help two refugees, no matter which side they came from would have made us as bad as the decepticons.”

“They’re ‘cons. It’s not like anyone would have missed ‘em.”

“You’re probably right. But that isn’t the point. You know as well as I do we need whatever numbers we can get as well as the extra servos. They offered whatever help they could provide to our cause in exchange for their lives and Optimus decided to accept. The decepticons just lost their Chief Medical Officer _and_ a valuable fighter to us. That’s a heavy blow. Decepticon activity has been down significantly since then as they’re most likely trying to recuperate from the loss.”

 

Wheeljack’s frown deepened, but he couldn’t deny Ratchet’s words. It was still a horrible idea as far as he was concerned, but at this point the two turncoats were more useful alive than dead.

“Fine. Ya got me. You’re right. I won’t attack them as long as they keep bein’ useful. Happy now?”

“Not particularly, considering I need to replace this casing I broke… I needed that.” Ratchet glowered down at his project. 

“You never did answer my question, sunshine.”

“Don’t call me that. What question?”

“When was the last time you got a full recharge?”

“I-...that’s none of your business.” 

“Uh huh… I’d put shanix on the fact that you haven’t even seen your own sleeping berth in a deca-cycle.”

Ratchet’s face plating flushed a faint blue and his armor plates flared slightly. “When and where I recharge is none of your business..!” He snapped defensively.

“Relax, doc. You just look tired. That’s all.” 

Ratchet only grunted a response, forcing his focus back to the thing in his hand. At least until a deft servo reached out to touch along his pauldron, easily drawing his attention away. 

“Stop that. I’m trying to focus…” Ratchet tried to shrug off the servo at his shoulder, which had found a particularly tight transformation seam and pressed firmly into it, drawing a sharp in-vent from the old medic. 

“Forget the recharge, when was the last time you transformed or even let yourself relax? Damn…” The servo at Ratchet’s shoulder followed the transformation seam down along his back, rubbing firmly at spots that seemed tight to try and get them to loosen and relax. 

The medic grunted and braced his empty servo against the workbench, the sensations both painful and pleasurable as the tension in his seams were worked away by skilled servos. For several breems, neither of them spoke, neither of them wanting to mention the light charge that had started to develop along the surface of the old medic. 

“Y’know,” Wheeljack spoke up after a lengthy pause, voice low and not that far from Ratchet’s right audial, “I’m thinkin’ maybe you might be more inclined to recharge if you didn’t have to do it alone.” The light charge between them was growing and visibly arced with a pop between the tips of Wheeljack’s digits and Ratchet’s armor. At least, he’d figured the pop was from the charge. Maybe it was the medic’s patience that had snapped, because the next thing he knew, there was a servo around his wrist and Ratchet was facing him, looking furious. 

“I do not have time to deal with you and whatever inane idea you’ve gotten into your processor this time. Can’t you see I’m busy?? I have to finish this hologram projector and wait for Optimus’ call for a bridge when he needs it. Then I need to work on fabricating a patch for-” Ratchet’s lecture was cut off as he was pushed against his own workbench firmly enough to pull a grunt from him. He cycled his optics in shock, finding himself trapped between the wrecker’s arms. 

 

“What you need... is a little break.” And before Ratchet could argue, a hot mouth slanted across his own, completely derailing any thoughts about arguing or anything else really. His servos found their grip wherever they could to keep him centered. One servo gripped the workbench behind him, while the other clung tightly to the wrecker’s shoulder. 

 

It had been vorns upon vorns since he’d been kissed like this, firmly yet tenderly, with just a hint of longing. Before he knew it, his optics had cycled shut and he’d pressed back against the other, feeling some of the tension fall away from his struts. 

\---

The deep quiet of Omega One made Knockout's light footsteps in the hall sound like great echoing stomps, at least to his own audials. He'd slipped out of berth, careful not to jostle a dozing Breakdown, to get something to drink.

He almost always woke up at night thirsty, and he could have kept something in the habsuite, but Knockout couldn't quite get over the lingering fear that the Autobots would think he was hoarding energon.

No, that was unfair.

Wide-eyed, they'd probably worry they'd been unhospitable or something. Supplies were precious, but the bots shared equitably, no matter what.

Knockout was about to turn the corner to the canteen when he heard murmuring voices coming from the direction of the medbay.

"Huh, I wonder what- No. None of my business."

And he would have ignored whomever it was, if it weren't for a sudden "clank" and some disgruntled mumbling.

"Ouch. That didn't sound pleasant."

He continued to move quietly, a habit after so much time on Nemesis, and peered into the medbay to offer assistance to whichever bot had fallen on their aft.

A micro-klik from calling out to them, Knockout forcefully sent a command to his vocalizer to shut off to keep himself from making a noise. It stung a little.

WHAT?

Wheeljack was crowding Ratchet up against one of the work tables, frame pinning the doctor in place, apparently kissing the fight right out of him. Ratchet seemed to relax moment by moment, an unexpectedly soft sound escaping him as the kiss deepened and Wheeljack pressed more fully against him. The gentle creaks and scrapes as their bodies moved against each other was barely audible from Knockout’s place of hiding. But then, with a particularly sharp creak of metal and a soft grunt of effort...or arousal, Wheeljack hefted the medic up onto the work bench, those thick legs quickly wrapping around the wrecker’s waist in an effort to pull him in closer and keep him there.

Knockout couldn't help but watch; it was, well, it was hot. No other word for it. Could have kept watching, to be honest, but it was too risky.

Very carefully, Knockout backed away from the door before he was spotted. Creeping along until he was safely down the hall, he rushed back to the habsuite, fumbling to correctly enter their door code.

He tried to call out, only to remember that he had to reset his vocalizer.

Finally, "Breaks!" he cried, eagerly, "You will not believe what I just saw!"

The faintest flash of red and the soft sound of sneaking pedes was Wheeljack’s hint that they very likely had an audience. Whoever it was seemed to get the hint pretty quickly however that the good doctor was currently preoccupied and left in quite a hurry. 

Ah well. He couldn’t seem to bring himself to care enough to say anything about it, and when Ratchet’s skilled hands slid their way up his back to grab the base of his faux wing accents and tug, the thought was thrust from his mind and he didn’t think about it again. 

The blue bruiser went from comfortably recharging to sitting bolt upright in an instant. “Whuzzah..?!” One yellow optic blinked dimly at Knockout, full of confusion and concern. “Som’thin’ wrong..??”He mumbled. The grin on the red mech’s face was enough to reassure him that whatever he saw wasn’t dangerous, but that didn’t stop him from worrying. 

Knockout couldn't help but dance on his pedes for a moment before sliding onto the berth, pushing Breakdown to make room, and settling in against him.

"Ratchet and Wheeljack!" he said with a grin. "I knew there was something going on with them!"

Somehow, it was a relief; to know that at least some of the Autobots were mechs with such mundane interests as romance. Or, at least, something like it. And Ratchet didn't seem like the type to break important rules, so any reluctance on his part was likely due to embarassment, rather than some "chastity" mandate in the Autobot handbook.  
He couldn't help but shudder at the thought.

Breakdown shifted in response to Knockout’s demanding claws pushing and prodding until he was curled around the racer just how he wanted. Processor still dull with recharge, Breakdown blinked dumbly. “Wh...something wrong with them..? What’d you see?” He mumbled curiously. Couldn’t be bad if Knockout was as pleased as he was. 

Tucked into Breakdown's side, the grin didn't leave Knockout's face as he explained what he'd seen.

"And let me just say, they seemed more than comfortable with each other, if you know what I mean. That was not a platonic stress relief sort of interaction."

Stretching his arms as far as they would go around Breakdown's middle, Knockout made a content humming noise.

"It's a relief, isn't it?"

He didn't want to pressure him in the slightest, but just to be able to clasp servos as they walked through the halls of Omega One, or give him a quick kiss before a shift…

Breakdown seemed to think on it for a while, idly thumbing Knockout's waist. 

"I don't know… it could still be something they don't like here which is why they're doing it when everyone is in recharge…" He pointed out, still feeling just a little wary. What he had with Knockout was the most important thing he'd ever had in his life. The last thing he wanted to do was jeopardize any aspect of their new life here by revealing the depths of his bond with the racer. 

If this was his paranoia rearing its ugly head again, fine. But he was gonna need more solid evidence before he really trusted his new teammates with this… 

Knockout decided against pointing out that everyone probably already knew, whether they engaged in PDA or not. Mechs could only exchange so many meaningful glances before someone caught on. It was obvious from the slightly tense line of Breakdown's frame that the whole thing made him uncomfortable.

"While I doubt the Autobots are the type to throw someone out for something like that, it can't hurt to do some more reconnaissance before we go making any grand announcements. Besides..."

Tangling his servo in the one resting against his waist, Knockout smiled.

"I like having you all to myself."

“Mmh… S’that right,” Breakdown hummed quietly, both aware and grateful for the redirection away from his thoughts. He squeezed the servo in his own and tugged the racer in just a little closer. Despite everything that had gone down, it was still ‘late’ and he wanted to get back to recharge. Tomorrow was going to be an interesting one with his first actual mission not being babysat by the Prime.


End file.
